


Across The Milky Seas

by callmewirkmood



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alien Character(s), Alien/Human Relationships, Alternate Universe, Coming of Age, Fairy Tale Elements, Friendship, Gen, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-10-02 07:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 40,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmewirkmood/pseuds/callmewirkmood
Summary: Once upon a time, in a quaint village nestled somewhere in the rolling English countryside, there appeared a boy none of the townsfolk had ever seen before.He had no name and no address. He had never gone to school or learned the alphabet the way children normally do. He couldn't even talk - at least, not in any language you or I have ever heard of.Three local boys found him, and thus an unusual friendship began.





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this lovely prompt on tumblr (https://johndeakys.tumblr.com/post/181597094649/concept-a-childrens-book-with-brian-may-as-a):
> 
> "concept: a children’s book with brian may as a lonely boy from space who accidentally lands on earth and three boys, freddie, roger, and john, find him, take him in and help him find a way back home in space but by the end he doesn’t want to go back because he doesn’t want to leave his friends."

Once upon a time, in a quaint village nestled somewhere in the rolling English countryside - I cannot reveal its name or exact location, for reasons you will surely understand later - there appeared a boy none of the townsfolk had ever seen before. 

He had no name and no address. He had never gone to school or learned the alphabet the way children normally do. He couldn't even talk - at least, not in any language you or I have ever heard of. 

Don't believe me? That's okay - neither did Freddie when Roger and Deaky showed up at his house one sweltering afternoon in July with said boy in tow. 

"We found him just outside the village," explained Roger, hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts, "racing our bikes on the dirt road by Farmer Reid's corn fields. He was just sitting there by the side of the road, under a tree." 

"You ever seen one of those abandoned baby birds on the pavement, all helpless and unable to fly?" Deaky added helpfully. "He looked a bit like that." 

"Uh-huh." It was an accurate comparison on Deaky's part, Freddie thought as he studied the stranger who, in turn, was taking in the leafy lushness of Freddie's backyard - Mrs. Bulsara's pride and joy - with big, curious eyes. He didn't ask why they had brought him over to his house - the trio of them had been fast friends since their first year in school and even though no one pulled rank on anybody, the younger two often looked to Freddie to act as their leader in situations that required firm decision making. Finding a mute boy who was very likely lost definitely counted as one of them. "How old d'you reckon he is?" 

"Dunno." Roger shrugged. "About our age, I'd say." 

Freddie would have guessed the same thing. The lad was about their height, but something in the disproportionate lankiness of his limbs suggested that he might just start outgrowing them sooner rather than later. He was definitely unusual-looking, dressed all in brandless, possibly homemade white clothes that didn't look like anything Freddie had ever seen (and he took more of an interest in fashion than most boys his age, just one of many reasons why he was considered an outcast among his peers). On his head was a shock of long brown curls, framing his face and bird-like neck like a halo and gently brushing his shoulders with every movement of his head. You didn't see anyone with a haircut like that in their county. It would be considered quite outlandish. 

Freddie's mind worked at warp speed. Maybe he was from the city. People dressed differently there. Maybe he'd run away from home. Or _maybe_ his folks were visiting relatives in the neighbourhood and the local coppers were all over town by now looking for him. To Freddie's ten-year-old mind, the thought was somewhat thrilling, like he'd just landed in the middle of one of the adventure novels he liked to read under the covers until long after his bedtime. 

"D'you think he's retarded, Fred?" Roger asked, a little too keenly. Finesse was not one of his strengths. 

"Shut up, Rog. He's not deaf. He can hear you." They all studied the boy as he tipped his head back to watch a noisy bird fly overhead. He didn't seem scared or intimidated by his surroundings, merely curious - and a little bewildered, perhaps. 

Feeling the others' eyes on him, waiting for him to take charge of the situation, Freddie cleared his throat and took a step in the strange boy's direction. For the first time, their eyes met properly and in that instant Freddie felt a tickle going down his spine, something unsettling and exciting at the same time. No, this chap wasn't retarded, quite the contrary - what he saw in those inquisitive hazel eyes spoke of a high, almost otherworldly, intelligence. 

There must be some other reason why he wasn't communicating. 

"I'm Freddie," he said, somewhat more confidently than he felt. "What's your name?" 

"We tried that," Deaky said. 

"I don't think he understands English," Roger elaborated. "He hasn't responded to anything we've said."

Freddie narrowed his eyes. This was going to be more challenging than he'd anticipated, but he wasn't discouraged that easily. The strange boy was still regarding him with an open, benign expression, so he decided to try a different approach. 

"Me, _Freddie_." He pointed a finger at his own chest, then at the other two. "Roger, Deaky." Then he pointed at the stranger and raised his eyebrows in a wordless question, hoping he'd made himself clear this time. 

His only answer was a slow blink. Not even a shake of the head or an apologetic smile from the other as a reward for his trouble. 

"I told you," Roger piped up almost triumphantly, "he's not right in the head." 

This time Freddie didn't tell him to be quiet, as he'd had another idea. He pointed at the house behind him - his house - and then at himself. Accepting the fact that the use of language would only confuse the stranger further, he jutted a finger at the boy and held his gaze. _Where. Do. You. Live?_

He could see the cogs turning in the boy's head, the confusion slowly lifting from his brow. He repeated the same series of gestures, nodding emphatically to encourage a response. Although the boy's expression hardly changed a flicker, he could see, finally, understanding blooming in those eyes. Silence stretched on and on. But eventually, the white-clad, curly-haired lad tapped his own chest with one long, slender finger, then slowly raised his hand above his head and, unmistakably, pointed that same finger at the wide expanse of sky overhead. 

"Bloody _hell_ ," Roger said.


	2. ii

It was quickly decided - mostly by Roger and Deaky, as Freddie found his so-called authority as unofficial leader of their little club of outcasts didn't count for much at the end of the day - that the mysterious lost boy was to stay with Freddie until they figured out a better plan. 

"Come on, Fred," Roger argued when Freddie didn't immediately jump at the thought. "He can't stay with John or me. We have like ten siblings between the two of us, we're cramped for space as it is and our parents would ask questions." 

"And you think mine won't?" 

"It's different for you. Your Dad's always working and your Mum adores you. If we come up with a good story, I'm sure she won't object." 

Freddie had to grudgingly admit he had a point there. His Dad was a strict disciplinarian but Jer Bulsara was the most giving, kind-hearted woman anyone had ever met. "I guess I could make it work for a couple of days. But he has to be gone by the time my Dad comes back from his business trip. He'd smell trouble the minute he walked in the door and call the police before you could blink." 

"No police," Roger said, shaking his head knowingly. He seemed to revel in their little conspiracy. "Once they realize he's some kind of space man, they'll whisk him off to a laboratory and put him in a cage, start sticking needles in him and stuff. I've seen that on TV so many times." 

Freddie regarded him sceptically. "You don't _really_ think he's from outer space, do you? Sure, he's odd, but that seems a bit... out there, if you'll forgive the pun. You were writing him off as retarded barely a minute ago." 

"I know, but..." Roger shrugged. "I'm just saying, it would explain a lot. Either way, we can't risk telling _anyone_ until we've found out who he belongs to. Agreed?" 

"Agreed," Deaky said, and they each reached out a hand to seal the pact with a three-way shake. 

"Do you think it's safe though?" Deaky asked, looking somewhat troubled. "We don't know anything about this feller. Not the slightest thing. If he really is some kind of, y'know..." - here he lowered his voice - "... _alien_... He could murder Freddie in his sleep for all we know." 

They all turned to look at the boy, who was still just standing there at the same spot, seemingly happy to wait patiently for the outcome of their deliberations. 

"Nah," Freddie said after a moment, "he looks harmless enough. And he seems to trust us so let's do him the same courtesy. Now let's figure out what to tell my Mum." 

They put their heads together and began hashing out a story that hopefully wouldn't raise too many questions with Jer Bulsara. It proved harder than expected to agree on all the details, so they were still whispering urgently among themselves when Jer came out of the house with a carafe of ice cold lemonade and glasses on a tray. 

"Hello Roger, John," she said warmly, "how sweet of you to come see Freddie." 

"Hello, Mrs. Bulsara," they chirped in unison, forgetting for a moment their troubles as they flocked towards her to gratefully accept the gift of refreshment. Nothing tasted better on a summer's day than Jer Bulsara's homemade lemonade, and they drank greedily. 

"Oh," she said in surprise as her eye fell on the new boy, who had also drifted curiously closer. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you'd brought another friend. What's your name?" 

The three conspirators all looked at each other in horror over the rims of their glasses. A _name!_ They hadn't quite got to that part in their scheming yet. 

Thankfully, there was Deaky. Deaky with his innocent cherub face and impeccable manners, whom no adult could ever suspect of misconduct but who was one of the most convincing, blank-faced liars Freddie had ever seen. 

It also seemed safest to link the lost boy to him as his Mum was a single mother who lived a pretty socially withdrawn life, which meant that her and Jer Bulsara's paths weren't very likely to cross. 

"He's one of me cousins, Mrs. Bulsara," Deaky said. "All the way from London. He's visiting with us for the summer. His name's, er, Brian." 

Roger and Freddie exchanged a look and Roger rolled his eyes. _Brian?_ that look seemed to say. _Of all the names you could have come up with?_

"Ah," Jer said as she poured another glass, "how nice. Wasn't that dog of yours also called Brian, John?" 

"Indeed," Roger muttered below his breath, "quite the coincidence." 

Freddie saw Deaky looking at him for support and understood the hint. As agreed, it would fall to him to deliver the next bit. The clincher, as it were. "Is it okay if Brian stays with us for a couple days, Mum?" he asked as casually as he could. "Deaky's little brother Charlie's got the measles and Brian hasn't had them yet. Deaky's Mum doesn't want him to be exposed. That's alright, Mum, isn't it? Kash and I have both had them, so there's no risk for us. He can sleep in my room with me." 

He could see her hesitating. "I should probably ask your father..." 

" _Please_ , Mum." He put on his most angelic face, wondering if he actually heard Roger snorting or if he was just imagining it. "Just a couple of days. Papa won't get back from his trip until next week. We won't be any trouble, I promise." 

"Brian's cool, Mrs. Bulsara," Deaky chimed in. "He doesn't talk much, because... well, I'm actually not sure why. They haven't really told me, like it's something I'm too young to understand. But like Freddie says, he won't cause you any trouble." 

Jer Bulsara sighed and looked at Brian, who met her gaze with unabashed curiosity. When she started to smile - perhaps because she, too, saw something in his eyes that touched her heart - Freddie knew the battle was won. 

"Well, all right," she said, cupping Brian's chin with motherly affection and giving him a glass of lemonade. "You're very welcome to stay a while, Brian dear. I know my Freddie will be delighted." 

"Thanks, Mum," Freddie mumbled, wishing she'd stop calling him _my Freddie_ in front of his friends. But he wouldn't quibble, not now that she had agreed. 

The boys watched with bated breath as Brian lifted the glass to his mouth and took a tentative sip. His face was quite a study, Freddie thought - he had yet to see the boy crack a smile, but even without that, his expression changed from fairly neutral to surprised to delighted at the taste, and he downed the whole glass in a matter of seconds, licking the rim and then his lips to get every last drop. 

"Guess he likes it," Roger commented incredulously. 

Jer Bulsara chuckled. "I have yet to meet someone who doesn't like my _nimbu pani_ , Roger," she said, smoothing his messy blond hair as he blushed. She put the tray down on the table. "I'll leave this here. You can play with your friends for another hour, Freddie, but don't go too far. I need you to help me get dinner ready." 

"Yes, Mum," he replied, and she disappeared back into the house, leaving the four boys to themselves. 

The first challenge had been successfully met. But more were yet to come.


	3. iii

Once Freddie and Roger had poked their fun at Deaky for dubbing their new friend 'Brian' - after his family _dog_ of all things - they spent what remained of the afternoon just being kids on summer break, riding their bicycles up and down the street (and trying, without much success, to teach Brian how it was done) and kicking a ball around in Freddie's backyard. The latter Brian took to quite quickly, even though the objective of the game was clearly lost on him and he kept running after the ball and trying to pick it up.

"No, Brian, you can't use your hands while the ball is in play," Roger said as he went over to take the ball from Brian's hands and got a confused look in response. "First rule of football, mate, unless you're the goalie."

"I don't think he knows the distinction, Rog," Deaky said while Brian abruptly turned and walked away, further into the garden. "Hey - where's he going?"

"Maybe you've upset him," Freddie said. "Nice going, Rog."

"I didn't do anything," Roger sulked. "I was only trying-"

He trailed off and they all watched in astonishment as Brian halted in front of one of Mrs. Bulsara's rose bushes and started pulling his pants down, ostensibly to relieve himself.

"Whoa, no no no," Freddie called out, running over to stop him and hastily cover him back up. "My Mum won't thank you for weeing on her roses, mate. We've got a private room for that. Come, I'll show you."

He led Brian back to the house - grinding his teeth as Roger and Deaky fell to the ground just about dying from laughter at his predicament - and ushered him into the bathroom (a whole new world of glinting ceramic tile for Brian to take in and admire). He showed him where to aim and discreetly turned around while Brian did his business the way human boys had done since time immemorial, demonstrating how to flush and wash up after.

"Next time you have to go," he told him, "do exactly as I've shown you, okay? You can use this for, er, the other thing as well." He prayed Brian would catch on soon so Freddie wouldn't have to chaperone every time.

It took some persuasion to get Brian to leave the bathroom with its array of fascinating features - especially the tap with its hot and cold water proved irresistible to his inquisitive fingers. When they finally got back outside, Roger and Deaky were still immersed in their game. Brian immediately ran after the ball and picked it up, turning around to look expectantly at Freddie as if to seek his approval.

"I give up," Roger sighed, clearly defeated by Brian's lack of athletic ability. "Maybe we should start with something simpler."

"Maybe rugby's more his game," Deaky grinned.

"Anyway, I have to be off," Roger said, picking his bike up from the lawn. "Tomorrow we head into town, yeah? See what we can find out in the library."

When the two boys got on their bikes and pedalled off down the street waving goodbye, Freddie was surprised to see Brian suddenly growing quite distressed, his agitation only increasing when their friends turned the corner and disappeared from view. Freddie had to stop him from going in pursuit by taking his arm. "Hey, it's okay," he tried to reassure him as best he could. "Rog and Deaks have to go home for dinner, but we'll see them again tomorrow. In the meantime you're staying with me." He sighed when Brian turned his big, questioning eyes on him. If only there were some way for the two of them to have a conversation! After a moment's thought, he pointed at the house, then at himself and then at Brian. It was primitive communication but effective, as Brian seemed to calm down somewhat, though he kept looking back over his shoulder as they headed inside.

That evening, as was to be expected, dinner at the Bulsaras' was certainly a bit of a departure from how things normally went. Freddie had planted Brian in an armchair and given him a couple picture books to leaf through while he went and helped his Mum with dinner, but once they all sat down at the table, it occurred to him that unless Brian had handled a knife and fork before - which he frankly doubted - his Mum was about to discover that Brian's silence wasn't the only odd thing about him.

So Freddie, on instinct, did what he did best - he started to talk, incessantly, bickering with his sister and just running his mouth about anything that came to mind to keep his Mum's attention away from Brian, who was clearly uncertain as to what was expected of him, staring at his plate of food and the strange objects beside it as one would at a complex puzzle. But eventually - lo and behold - he slowly picked up his fork and then his knife too, eyes travelling back and forth between Freddie's plate and his as he began to cut up his food and eat, with measured, thoughtful movements that gradually gained in confidence. A casual observer would never have suspected that it was his first time using these tools.

Freddie was in awe of this staggering ability to adapt so quickly - and in that moment, it was suddenly so very clear to him how Brian was doing it.

 _He observes_. _He watches what I am doing and then imitates it. That's how he learns._

He felt somehow empowered by this revelation, and he did his best to be the example Brian needed to make it through this dinner unscathed, eating with his mouth closed and clearing his entire plate before putting his cutlery down and using his napkin. His table manners were beyond reproach that evening - unusual enough for him to warrant a compliment from his mother.

"Why doesn't he talk?" Kash asked suddenly, just as they were all finishing up. She was your typical annoying smart-mouthed little sister, but Freddie supposed he loved her well enough most of the time. "Isn't that strange?"

"Kashmira," Jer Bulsara warned her, softly but sternly. "Brian is our guest, and in this house we show our guests kindness and hospitality. Remember that, please."

"Thanks for dinner, Mum. May we be excused?" Freddie asked, shifting about on his chair restlessly. This dinner had confirmed what he'd already suspected - his new friend wasn't stupid, _fuck_ no - and he couldn't wait to go upstairs and find out what else he could teach him. "I want to show Brian my room."

"You may," she nodded, and he wasted no time getting up from the table, discreetly tapping Brian's shoulder to indicate he should follow. Brian did, and for the first time, Freddie felt hopeful that they may just find a way to communicate after all - be it with or without words.

Upstairs, Freddie's cat was curled up on his bed, looking up sleepily when the two boys entered.

"This is Delilah," Freddie said, gathering the little calico in his arms and showing her to Brian proudly. "Do you want to pet her? She's a real sweetheart."

Brian seemed completely beguiled by Delilah, lifting a cautious hand to scratch her behind her ear the way Freddie showed him and humming a bit when she started to loudly purr, almost as if he were laughing in a way. It was a low, throaty sound, the first Freddie had heard him make. He looked up and even saw the beginnings of a tentative smile forming on Brian's face.

"So you _can_ smile," Freddie said, feeling strangely pleased. "That's good to know. You should do it more often. Smiling reassures people."

He wondered if he was rambling just to fill the silence, or because on some subconscious level he hoped that Brian would absorb the words and eventually start imitating them too. Possibly a little bit of both.

"So this is my room," he said, setting Delilah down as she began to fuss. "This is my bed. We'll get a cot out for you in a minute, don't worry - you'll be comfy tonight. These are my books, well, some of them. These are just a couple posters that I have, you know, of my favourite bands and stuff. Oh, and this of course is my record player. I had to beg my Dad for _weeks_ before he let me have one of these. In return for a thousand chores and a good chunk of my allowance, of course, because my Dad never gives away anything for free. You want to listen to some music? I've got some great records. Here..." He pulled a box out from under his bed and rummaged through his modest collection of vinyls. "Oh, you have to hear this. This is the best thing ever." He placed the record on the turntable and positioned the needle while Brian looked on, mildly interested in the proceedings even though his gaze kept wandering back to Delilah, who'd curled her claws into the carpet and was stretching herself at her leisure, showing all her teeth as she yawned.

And then Elvis blasted into the room in all his rock 'n roll rawness.

_You ain't nothin' but a hound dog  
Cryin' all the time..._

Freddie revelled in the way Brian's mouth fell open at that first explosion of sound - the vocals, the rhythmic claps, the drum riff - and jumped up to get his body moving because he just couldn't help himself. "Yeah! What do you think of that, Bri? That's rock 'n roll! Come on, join me." He motioned for Brian to get up and follow his example, but Brian either didn't understand or was just too baffled to respond at all, gaping at Freddie who was bopping around the room like a fool, fist-pumping and playing air guitar. "Not in the mood, are you? That's okay, you can just watch me be a dancing queen all by myself."

For the sake of drama, he swayed his hips provocatively the way he'd seen the master himself do, knowing full well that if his Mum walked in right now and saw him do that, she'd swat him. And while he jammed on his imaginary guitar, he sang.

_Well you ain't never caught a rabbit  
And you ain't no friend of mine, yeahhh_

When the song ended, Freddie gave a final fist-pump and collapsed spread-eagled onto the bed, grinning up at the ceiling and catching his breath because he'd given that impromptu little performance his all. Music simply had that effect on him - he couldn't hold back when he heard a good rhythm - and he knew of nothing that made him happier.

After a few moments, he felt a slender hand tug shyly at his sleeve and he pushed himself up on his elbows to find Brian leaning over him, pointing at the now silent record player in a request that couldn't possibly be misunderstood.

_Well. The lad may not know the first thing about football, but he sure understands good music when he hears it._

It was an encouraging thought.

"Want to hear that again, do you?" Freddie laughed as he got up from the bed to comply. "Well, I can't fault your taste, mate, that's for sure."


	4. iv

Although it was still pleasant outside and Kash was allowed to play in the backyard until her bedtime while Mrs. Bulsara tended to her garden, the two boys spent the rest of that evening cooped up in Freddie's room listening to some of the greats of rock 'n roll (including but not limited to Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Johnny Cash and Buddy Holly), which made up the majority of Freddie's collection. But there was no genre in music that he didn't like, and once they'd exhausted his records (having listened to each at least three times, often on repeat) he snuck downstairs and returned with an armful of his father's records. 

"I'm really not supposed to," he smiled conspiratorially, "but you won't rat me out, will you, Bri?" 

His father was an avid listener of classical music - it was one of the few things they were able to really bond over - and Freddie had gathered up a small selection of choral music and opera as a first introduction, feeling almost nervous as he crouched down on the floor beside Brian and put on a staple of the genre as well as one of his absolute favourites, Delibes' _Flower Duet_. It was one thing to rock out to Elvis with Brian sitting right there, but this was different. This felt a lot closer to the vest, like he was making himself vulnerable in a way. He didn't usually share his love of classical music with his peers, not even Roger and Deaky. Not that they'd judge him, but they wouldn't truly understand, either. 

"This one's a bit different, Bri," he said, anxiously pulling his top lip over his teeth as he lowered the needle, but his anxiousness fell away almost from the first note, and he closed his eyes to just let that lovely, gentle tune wash over him. His Dad had once explained to him what the soprano and mezzo-soprano sang about in French, but quite frankly it didn't matter to him - the melody and the way those two ethereal voices soared and intertwined were enough to fill him with joy and wonder that anything so beautiful existed in the world. A tear slipped from his eye - something he wasn't even aware of until he felt a cool finger gently brush his cheek. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "No matter how many times I hear it, it still gets to me." 

Brian studied the wetness on his finger and then Freddie's face with a quizzical expression. Even if he didn't know the meaning of tears, he seemed to sense the change in mood and it clearly troubled him. Slowly, he pointed at the record player, his eyes asking a question. 

"Yes, it was the music," Freddie nodded sheepishly. "That's what music does, you know? Some of it makes you happy, some of it makes you sad or just really touches you. Because you feel it, here." He patted his chest. "And no matter how different we are, I think that's how it is for you, too. I'm almost sure of it. And that makes me happy because... well, it's the best feeling, you know? And even though you don't speak a word of English, we can still sit here and have a good time enjoying some really great music together. I think that's pretty neat." 

He smiled reassuringly and could see Brian relaxing at that, even cracking a smile in response. Then, biting his lip, Brian pointed at the Delibes album cover, looking almost shy. 

"You want to hear it again?" Freddie reached for the needle, but Brian stopped him, pointed again. Pictured on the cover was a kitschy arrangement of roses. 

"Oh." Freddie sat up a little straighter as it dawned on him what Brian was really asking, heart suddenly slamming against his ribs. For the first time, he could feel Brian trying to reach out across the language barrier. "Flower." Brian cocked his head and Freddie said it again, enunciating with precision. "Flower." 

It gave him an idea, and he quickly arranged several albums on the floor so Brian could see them. It was quite a colourful, diverse collage of pictures. "Flower," he said again, pointing at the Delibes. Then at another, "Piano. Guitar. Hat. Scarf. Car." He made sure to repeat each word several times. "Horse. Dog." He pointed at Delilah, who'd fallen asleep on his bed again. "Cat. Purrrr." Brian smiled, again making that throaty sound that Freddie had come to believe was laughter. 

Just then, there was a knock on the door and his Mum stuck her head around. She seemed pleased to find them in such high spirits, and he prayed she wouldn't notice his Dad's records scattered haphazardly on the floor. "Boys? Time for bed." 

Freddie suppressed a sigh and started to gather up his records to put away. From the corner of his eye he saw Brian's face fall with disappointment and he shrugged as if to say: _sorry mate, can't be helped._

Twenty minutes later they were ready for bed, Brian dressed in a pair of undies and T-shirt from Freddie's wardrobe that did nothing if not accentuate what a skinny thing he was, the effect compounded by the mass of curls tumbling onto his narrow shoulders. With his beak-like nose and sometimes jittery way of moving, he really did have something of a bird in him, Freddie thought - Deaky had made an astute observation there. 

A naked little baby bird with no feathers, completely alone in a world that must hold very little of the familiar for him. Freddie felt a sudden flash of fondness for the lad and privately spared a moment to give thanks for the fact that Roger and Deaky hadn't left Brian by the wayside for somebody else to find. He knew enough about the world to understand that that could have ended in a variety of ways, not all of them good. 

Brian seemed rather bewildered by the whole bedtime ritual, but, true to form, he followed the steps obediently until he was all tucked up in his cot, sheet pulled up to his chin and eyes staring at Freddie as if to ask: _right, what next?_

"Now we sleep," Freddie said as he switched off his bedside lamp. "Tomorrow morning Roger and Deaky are coming to collect us after breakfast and we're going to the library to read up on space. Night, Bri." 

All went quiet, and for a few minutes Freddie lay staring into the dark, convinced he wouldn't sleep a wink after the day he'd had, with all those thoughts running through his head. But eventually his eyes slipped shut and he began drifting off into the first stage of sleep. 

Before he could properly succumb, however, his ear picked up movement in the bed beside his and he jolted awake to find Brian leaning close, face hovering over Freddie's and eyes trained on him in the dark. 

"Christ, you startled me." Freddie dropped his voice to a whisper. "What's wrong? Can't sleep? Do you have to go to the bathroom?" He switched on the bedside lamp, suddenly seized by a terrible suspicion. "Bri... People _do_ sleep where you come from, right?" 

In response, Brian emitted a sound that sounded suspiciously like a whine and pointed at the lamp. 

_Oh God, he's bored. And not sleepy at all, it seems like._

"No, Brian, we're not playing word games right now. Look, nighttime is for sleeping, okay? That's how we roll. It's easy. Just lie down, close your eyes and let your mind drift." He switched the light off and squeezed his eyes shut, praying that Brian would follow suit. 

_Click_. Through closed eyelids, Freddie could tell the light had come on again, and he scrambled to his elbows to find Brian reaching across, finger still on the switch. _Click. Click. Clickclickclick._

"Damn it, you're far too clever for your own good." Freddie sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Will you stop that, please? A lamp is not a toy." To his surprise, Brian did as he asked and so the two of them were immersed in darkness once again. Brian still looked worryingly awake, however, and Freddie racked his brain for a solution. 

There was really only one that he could think of. 

"I'll sing for you," he said, "okay? Like my Mum did for me when I was a baby. Just lie down and close your eyes. And promise me to never ever breathe a word of this to Roger and Deaky." He rolled onto his back and sighed, inwardly grinning at how perfectly _bizarre_ this all was before beginning to softly croon Frank Sinatra, another favourite of his Dad's that just happened to pop into his head. It was soothing enough to serve as a lullaby, at any rate. 

_Night and day, you are the one  
Only you beneath the moon..._

Whether it would help Brian fall asleep, he had no idea. But it certainly worked a charm for him, as he started slurring the lyrics by the second verse and trailed off soon thereafter. He may have felt a finger gently poking his cheek, but he was already too far gone. Moments later, he was fast asleep.


	5. v

When Freddie woke up the next morning to find his mother shaking him by the shoulder, his first conscious thought was that something quite terrible must have happened. "Mum? Wha-"

 _Brian_. A dizzying succession of possibilities, each more terrifying than the next, flashed before his mind's eye. Had his inquisitive friend gone exploring while they were all asleep and made a big mess? Burned the house down? Had the aliens landed in their backyard to reclaim one of their own and declare war on all of mankind?

"Time to get up, _beta_ ," he heard his Mum say. "Your friends'll be here soon."

He sleep-drunkenly jerked his head around to look at Brian's cot - and found it alarmingly empty. "Mum... where's Brian?"

"Downstairs with Kash. He's been up for a while."

 _With Kash_. To Freddie that was anything but good news, and he stumbled out of bed as though bitten by a snake, nearly stepping on a startled Delilah's tail as he catapulted himself down the stairs. Entering the living room, he found Brian and his eight-year-old sister nestled amicably side by side in his Dad's bulky armchair, a book open across both of their laps. It was a tranquil scene, reassuring in its harmoniousness, and yet Freddie felt a just a tiny stab of betrayal that he wasn't prepared for.

He immediately felt foolish for it, however, and he paused in the doorway for a second to gather his wits and thank every deity in existence that Brian hadn't got up to any mischief overnight while Freddie was out for the count. "Hey... What are you two doing?"

"I've been reading to Brian, sleepyhead," Kash said. "He can't read, can he?"

Here Freddie stopped breathing for a second. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of. "No, I don't think so," he said with feigned nonchalance, heart hammering so hard that he could barely hear himself. "Not in English, anyway."

"I've been trying to teach him. He's smart." She turned to give Brian a dazzling smile. "You're very smart. And your hair is so pretty."

_Huh._

It was not the reaction he had been bracing himself for. But, he'd definitely take it. "Quit flirting, Kash," he said, rolling his eyes at her.

"I'm not!" She giggled and briefly stroked Brian's cheek, and damn if Brian didn't _blush_ at that. "I just really wish I had beautiful hair like that. I'm going to curl mine once I'm old enough."

"Provided Papa lets you."

"Pfff. Watch me." She stuck her nose into the air and closed the book, Brian still too stunned to even protest. "Can I come with you today?"

"No," Freddie said quickly, and because he thought it wiser not to get in her bad books right now, added, "Sorry. You wouldn't enjoy it anyway."

"Where are you going?"

The truth seemed harmless enough. "The library in town."

She furrowed her forehead at the notion. "Why?"

"Why does one usually go to the library, Kash?" he deadpanned, earning himself a dirty look as she slid down from the chair and stomped out of the room with a departing flick of her hair. "I wish _Brian_ was my brother!" she called at him from halfway up the stairs.

"Girls." He sighed and shook his head at Brian, who was still beet red but simultaneously looked a little shaken by this outburst of sibling drama. "Yeah, don't be fooled, mate. They're trouble. C'mon, let's fix ourselves some breakfast - I'm starving."

Roger and Deaky arrived about a half hour later - much to the obvious delight of Brian - and together they set out and caught a bus to the nearest town, Freddie having shaken down his piggy bank and stuffed his pockets with his entire fortune in hopes of scoring some ice cream later in the day. (All the same, his Mum also gave him some change to cover the bus fare for him and Brian.)

"Well? How'd it go?" Roger and Deaky asked in unison as soon as they were alone and out of earshot, the bus slowly pulling away from the stop. Clearly they'd been on tenterhooks ever since leaving Brian in Freddie's hands the day before, and now they wanted to _know_. Unsure as to where to start, Freddie cast a sidelong glance at Brian, who sat next to him with his face all but plastered to the window as he seemed to be trying to take in every detail of his surroundings - and not for the first time, Freddie was left in awe of the complete lack of fear that Brian was exhibiting in the face of such an alien world.

In a way, Brian's curiosity and wonder made him look at the world with different eyes, too. Truth be told, he would have been quite happy to spend that bus ride taking in the same vistas that Brian was admiring and teaching him new words.

" _Freddie!_ " Roger poked him impatiently, and Freddie somewhat reluctantly tore his gaze away from the window.

"Uh... yeah, it went all right, I suppose." He told them about the hairy moments at dinner and Brian's incredible talent for mimicry. "We spent most of the evening listening to records in my room. It was nice, actually. Turns out Brian likes rock 'n roll."

"No kidding." They both seemed terribly impressed by that, and Freddie grinned, wishing he could take a photograph of their incredulous faces. He did not, however, tell them about the tentative language lessons, as he wasn't sure yet what would come of them and he didn't want to get anyone's hopes up, including his own. And what did it matter at the end of the day? Even if Brian never said a single word, he was fine the way he was.

The bus ride from their village into town took about twenty minutes. They got off at the main square - in the summer, a popular place for the local youth to hang out - and crossed the street to the monumental building that held what was, as far as they were concerned, the seat of all knowledge.

The public library.

They went in with high hopes albeit without much of a plan, claiming a table for the four of them in a private corner where they could powwow without being overheard. And once Brian, who had grown very excited at the sight of all those books stored in one place, was very happily installed with a number of educational picture books and illustrated encyclopaedias, the other three swarmed out to gather what they could on astronomy, extraterrestrials and space travel.

It proved a frustrating task. The library held a wealth of material on the subject, but the scientific literature was, for the most part, completely incomprehensible to them. The books aimed at children, on the other hand, were laughably simplistic and even less helpful. And nothing they could dig up provided a readymade answer to their primary question - was Brian an actual alien and if so, how did they return him to his own people in just the span of a few days?

It was starting to dawn on Freddie that they'd been rather naive in thinking that they'd find such an answer here - or anywhere, for that matter.

"I don't know, lads," Deaky sighed, looking up from a tome he'd been frowning at for the past ten minutes. "This whole Roswell incident sounds kind of sketchy if you ask me. And does this look like Brian to you?" He pointed at an artist's impression of an extraterrestrial, a hairless, large-eyed creature with a bulbous skull and four long fingers on each hand.

"Maybe he can shape shift," Roger theorised out loud, but he looked dubious even as he said it. "You know, maybe he's been sent to earth on a reconnaissance mission and his human form is nothing but a disguise. Maybe he's hid his spaceship somewhere and once he's done studying life on earth, he's going to take off again and tell his mates back home about this phenomenon called rock 'n roll, Fred."

Freddie, meanwhile, had stumbled across a foldout map of the Earth's solar system, one of the most detailed he'd seen so far. "Hey, Brian?" he said distractedly, at which Brian looked up from his book on the world's rainforests. "Have a look at this map- ouch!" He rubbed his side where Roger had poked him with his elbow just now. "What the bloody hell, Rog?"

"Fred, he responded to his name," Roger hissed. "You said 'Brian' and he reacted. He already knows that's his name!"

"The one we gave him, anyway," Deaky said. "If only he could speak, he could tell us his real name."

"If he has one," Freddie said pensively, and he smiled at Brian who beamed back at them from across the table, a strange feeling of pride swelling within him. "I already knew he was smart, though. So let's see what you make of this, Bri." He pushed the map he'd found across the table for Brian to look at. Brian studied the map for a moment or two before raising his questioning gaze up at Freddie. He seemed to understand that something was expected of him, but if they had hoped for some kind of epiphany to happen right then and there, the reality was decidedly underwhelming.

"We want to help you get back home, Brian," Freddie explained. "Is there anything here that you recognise? Anything that could help us?"

Brian looked again, but as the seconds ticked by it was becoming increasingly obvious to Freddie that Brian was only doing it to humour them and that nothing on that map was evoking a particular response. Still, he waited with bated breath just like Roger and Deaky were doing, the three of them leaning closer when Brian lifted his hand uncertainly and pointed at the little blue orb representing the Earth. A long, stunned silence descended on their table.

"Whoa," Deaky breathed. "That's freaky. That seriously gives me chills, you guys."

Granted, it was not an answer to the question Freddie had asked, as the boys' true intent had probably been lost in translation. But the fact that Brian had pointed out the Earth of all things as something that he knew by sight seemed significant, and Freddie, too, could feel the hair at the back of his neck stand up. Brian was looking at him for reassurance that he'd done the right thing, however, so he mustered a smile for his sake. "Earth," he said, nodding. "Very good, Brian. That's where we are."

They left the library about ten minutes later, squinting into the sunlight like moles emerging from a tunnel. In terms of finding answers to their questions, the visit had not been very fruitful, but Freddie felt that something had shifted all the same. In a way, it had all been fun and games before, a little adventure to while away their summer days. Now, it felt like something quite different. And although no one said anything, he was sure they were all trying to come to terms with it.

"Right," Roger sighed, breaking the silence eventually. "Anyone for ice cream?"

It was probably as good an idea as any, Freddie reckoned, and things seemed a lot simpler already when they were strolling down the pavement a little while later with their ice creams in hand, gazing longingly into the shop windows. Freddie wondered if he had the funds to pay a visit to the music store later and buy a new record for his collection.

Roger, meanwhile, had resumed thinking out loud. "Could be he's not from our solar system," he said, licking at his rapidly dwindling ice cream. Roger wasn't one to savour the good things of life in small amounts. "Maybe that's why he didn't know what to point at when Freddie showed him the map."

"Can we really be sure he's from outer space, though?" Deaky countered. "I mean, have we considered the possibility that he could be a time traveller from the future or something? That would explain why he looks so little like an alien and so much like us."

For once, Freddie was not contributing to the conversation. Trailing a little behind, he listened with a half ear, distracted by thoughts of the music store and the small change he'd scraped from his piggy bank that morning. This was also why he initially failed to react to an unfamiliar voice calling his name from behind.

"Freddie-e-e."

Walking two paces ahead of him, though, Roger and Deaky did hear it. They halted and turned around. Stared. It was their reactions that made Freddie stop in his tracks as well, and he instinctively turned his head to look for Brian who he'd assumed was right next to him, but he was no longer there. _Shit! Where-?_

Wheeling around, he thankfully spotted Brian, who'd fallen quite a bit behind without them noticing. That in itself was disconcerting, as Freddie had promised himself to keep an eye on Brian always and clearly he had neglected to do so. But what was more-

"Freddie-e-e." Melting ice cream in one hand, Brian pointed with the other, and as in slow motion they simultaneously followed the direction of his finger to see a street musician playing to a small audience on the other side of the street. _"Guitar!"_


	6. vi

While Brian himself didn't seem the least bit fazed by the fact that he'd just casually debuted not one but _two_ two-syllable words out of nowhere, the three other boys stood there on the pavement as though thunderstruck for a second, prompted to move only when Brian, enchanted by the music, made to cross the street without looking for oncoming traffic. "Whoa - _Brian!_ "

Within seconds they were crowding him excitedly, all talking over each other and tripping over their words to tell him what he'd just done and how extraordinary it was.

"Fred, did you _hear_ that?" Deaky gushed, even though it couldn't be more obvious that they'd all heard it clear as day. "That was _totally amazing_."

"Brian, can you say 'Roger'?" Roger prodded. "That's my name. Go on, say R-r-rooooger." And of course Deaky didn't want to be left out and joined in too, the two of them cawing their names at Brian as though locked in some sort of competition. Freddie, who'd been no less stunned to hear his previously mute friend speak in perfectly understandable English, could see Brian getting a bit overwhelmed by all of their excitement, wide eyes going back and forth between Roger and Deaky as if trying to make sense of their reaction. He looked... lost, and Freddie didn't like it. Not one bit.

"Lads, that's enough," he cut in, "back off him, come on. Let's all calm down a bit."

Almost to his surprise, they listened, although still grinning like fools about what they'd just witnessed. When it was safe, the four of them crossed the street, and while Brian listened to the street musician's tunes and took contented licks of his ice cream, the other three deliberated in hushed tones.

"So let me get this straight," Roger summarised once Freddie finished telling them about the rudimentary language lessons the night before, "you _taught_ him to say 'guitar'?"

"Among other things, yeah, I guess so," Freddie shrugged, "if teaching is the word for it. I had no idea he could actually say it, though. And I never taught him my name, just like I didn't teach him his. He just... picks these things up somehow, and a whole lot faster than you or I ever could. Just by watching and listening, which he seems to be doing _all the time_. Like a sponge of sorts. Absorbing, analysing. I don't think he ever switches off, actually." He told them about his theory that Brian didn't need sleep, or at least nowhere near as much of it as humans did.

(If he was right about this, they would have to come up with some sort of plan to keep Brian constructively occupied during the wee hours of the night, when Freddie and the rest of his family were asleep - for his own sake as well as Freddie's.)

"Neat," Deaky whispered, and Roger chimed in with an equally impressed, "Cool."

They abandoned all thoughts of shopping - even the music store suddenly didn't seem so important anymore - and of a last-ditch attempt to unearth anything in the library in favour of catching a bus back to their village. It was going on lunchtime anyway and they realised they better stick to their curfews if they wanted to stay in their parents' good books - it wouldn't do to be grounded and get cheated out of time with their interesting new friend.

It was safe to say that from that day forward, Roger and Deaky became equally invested in teaching Brian the ways of their world as Freddie, and their little country village - which normally had so little to offer three young boys growing up - unexpectedly transformed into an exciting world of exploration and discovery when seen through the eyes of a stranger. They became an inseparable quartet, often seen roaming the streets and countryside together with Brian sometimes lifting along on one of their bicycles when they wanted to cover more ground than they could on foot. To Freddie, the world never seemed brighter and more full of possibility than when he and his mates were riding along the meandering country roads on one of those golden summer days, the sunlight reflecting off of the chrome of their wheels, and he hoped it gave Brian at least some of that feeling, too.

Even among their little hodgepodge group of misfits (Roger blond and bespectacled, Deaky scruffy in clothes inherited from his older siblings and Freddie clearly a child of immigrants, with a big personality and teeth to match), Brian must have stood out to any observer - if not for his unruly mop of hair, then for the way his borrowed clothes always seemed ill-fitting for his narrow frame and awkwardly long limbs - but it didn't take long for his pale complexion to pink up from the sun and his bony knees to become scraped and bruised like theirs from trawling the wilderness and crouching down to study the little creatures of the earth, plants or animal tracks that Roger found and could almost always identify. They spotted some wildlife, too - a pheasant, a couple of hedgehogs and a shy fox bounding away from them upon sight - and swam in the shallow river, diving up pebbles and other treasures for Brian who looked on longingly from his safe perch on a big, flat boulder, face in the sun and feet in the water.

A sadder find on one of their expeditions were the fresh remains of a pigeon that seemed to have collided with a moving vehicle and fallen by the wayside, a broken little bundle of ruffled feathers. The sight made a deep impression on Brian, so much so that he couldn't be persuaded to leave the poor little creature until they'd given it a ceremonial burial by the side of the road, and even then it took him a while to shake off the mournful pall that had fallen over him at seeing the bird that had had its final flight. It was, in all likelihood, his first encounter with the phenomenon of death, and it was several hours before they heard the sound of his throaty laughter again.

There was, however, one pastime Brian took to more enthusiastically than to any other and that of course was music. Not a day went by that the four friends didn't spend some time in Freddie's room discussing and listening to records, occasionally joined by Kash because as they all knew, little sisters just couldn't help but butt in at times. But it made Freddie's life a whole lot easier not to lock horns with her, especially since his Mum had spoken to his Dad on the telephone and told him how exemplary Freddie's behaviour had been lately and how good an influence their guest was on him.

(Of course, this glowing review took nothing away from the fact that Brian could no longer be around by the time Mr. Bulsara returned home, but the thought of these carefree summer days inevitably ending - with a solution to their dilemma still nowhere in sight - was one Freddie preferred to push to the back of his mind. Either way, a happy Kash meant a happy Mum and that meant more leeway for Freddie to roam outside with his friends. She even turned a bit of a blind eye to his borrowing his father's classical records, which he knew she must have noticed.)

Meanwhile, Brian's vocabulary grew, and the more words he picked up and was able to produce, the more vocal he became about what he liked - and didn't necessarily like - in music and the better he was able to articulate his opinions, although he never participated in the other three boys' bickering. Very little seemed to upset his inner equilibrium, and he had a naturally soft, dulcet voice that he never raised and which was very pleasant on the ear, well-modulated and surprisingly low for a boy his age.

Here, Freddie always caught himself mid-thought. Truth was, they had absolutely no idea how old Brian was, and neither, it seemed, did Brian. As quick of understanding as he was about some things, there were certain concepts that appeared completely alien to him, and age was one of them. Names were another. He seemed to understand that humans responded to a particular word that applied specifically to them, and he duly responded when they called him by his, but whenever they tried to wheedle out of him what he was really called, they felt like they hit a wall of confusion and miscommunication, and they soon gave up and stopped asking.

An unexpected breakthrough in teaching Brian about his own identity, however, came from the Bulsaras' bathroom mirror. Brian had become fascinated with it on day one, watching Freddie fuss in front of it - which he did a lot, much to his sister's hilarity - and playing peek-a-boo with his own reflection like a little kid. Once, he tried touching his face in the mirror, quickly pulling back his hand when his fingers grasped at its cold, hard surface when he seemed to have expected skin.

He must have given the incident a considerable amount of thought afterwards, because the following morning, as they were getting ready to brush their teeth, Freddie caught Brian intensely staring at him in the mirror. With a deeply thoughtful look on his face, he pointed at Freddie's one-dimensional image. "Freddie," he said, slowly and clearly.

Freddie nodded, realising that Brian was working through an important thought process. "Yeah."

Lowering his hand, Brian shifted his gaze from Freddie to the only other boy in the mirror. There was wonder in his eyes, but instead of the academic curiosity he'd displayed out in the fields, studying insects and other natural phenomena, here Freddie saw something different - a growing awareness and sense of self. It was a thrilling thing to see, and he held as his breath as Brian pointed again, not at the mirror this time but turning the finger on himself. "Brian." Like all his words, it came out perfectly enunciated on the first try - Brian never started using a word until he had mulled it over in his head and fully grasped how to use it appropriately. He used speech sparingly and thoughtfully, a trait Freddie, who so often got into trouble for saying things without thinking them through first, admired in him.

In a way it also felt like an endorsement of sorts, almost like Brian were claiming the name as his own, whether intentionally or not. And if he had decided the name his friends had picked was good enough, who were they to argue?

"This calls for ice cream," Freddie announced quasi pompously, laying an arm around Brian's shoulders and grinning at the way Brian's face in the mirror lit up - ice cream had become an instant favourite of his. "Come on, Bri, let's finish up in here and go meet the guys. If I'm not mistaken, they've got quite a surprise in store for you today."


	7. vii

"Well, I've brought these," Roger said as he pulled a couple of jigsaw puzzles from his backpack, then held the thing upside down to shake out several smaller brain twisters. "What do you reckon? This should be enough to keep him occupied for a night or two, right?" 

"Yeah, I'd say so," Freddie said gratefully. It was a relief Roger had been able to dig up anything at all, as far as he was concerned. He'd already given Brian all of his own puzzles to put together during those small hours of the night and it was getting harder to find things for him to do. "Thanks, Rog, I owe you one." 

"No worries. I'm going to need them back eventually, but there's no rush. No one in our house will miss these anytime soon." 

"I'll get them back to you," Freddie promised as he transferred the puzzles into his own backpack. Meanwhile Brian had already picked up one of the brain twisters and was investigating it from every angle, clearly intrigued by its shape and colours. It wouldn't take him long to figure out how it worked and to solve it, of that Freddie had no doubt; Brian had so far obliterated all puzzles put in front of him, and unfortunately, once he'd solved a puzzle he invariably lost interest in it and needed a new challenge. It would really be for the best to teach him how to read, Freddie mused, but even with Brian's smarts they couldn't pull a steep task like that off in a matter of days, especially when there was so much else to show him and do in their preciously short time together. 

Because even these lazy summer days were fleeting, the deadline of Mr. Bulsara's return now looming worryingly close, and the more time passed, the more the realisation crept up on Freddie that they'd been given an impossible task to fulfil, one that was completely beyond their capabilities and resources. What had seemed like an adventure before now felt like a heavy burden of responsibility, pressing down on Freddie's shoulders. They were only ten-year-old kids - how could they possibly be expected to get Brian safely home when they didn't even know where that home was? The universe was so unknown, so unimaginably vast. And even if Brian knew what to do, he didn't have the words to tell them. It really was an impasse, and although he didn't say so, Freddie was starting to truly fear for his friend's future safety. 

"I've got something even better," Deaky announced, as he passed the bottle of Coke they'd been sharing to Brian. Today they had convened at the park, and although it wasn't noon yet, it was already getting hot. "Let's play a game, Brian. Which you do prefer, soda or milk?" 

"Soda," Brian chirped, face lighting up with a smile. They had been playing this game a lot and it was one of his favourites. It also helped build his vocabulary by leaps and bounds. 

"Ice cream or chocolate?" 

Here Brian looked visibly conflicted, and Freddie laughed. "It's okay, Bri, you can say 'both'." 

"No, he can't!" Roger jumped in. "He has to pick one, that's the whole point. Go on, Brian. Ice cream or chocolate?" 

"Ice cream," Brian said eventually, though he didn't look too happy about having to choose between the two. 

Freddie was next. "Elvis or Johnny Cash?" he asked, and was met by hooting from the other two. 

"Elvis," Brian answered with a grin. "Hound Dog!" 

"Yes!" Freddie reached across the picnic table and high-fived him. "Good lad, Bri." 

"You've brainwashed him good, Fred," Roger teased, and Freddie stuck his tongue out at him. 

"Not at all, dear. Give Brian more credit than that, he's got a mind of his own. Don't you, Bri?" 

"My turn," Deaky said, raising his hand to shut them both up. "Brian, drums or guitar?" 

There was no contest there. "Guitar," Brian readily answered, and Roger groaned and face-planted on the table. 

"Excellent choice," Deaky said smugly, patting Brian's shoulder. "I think you'll like this, then." With a mysterious smile, he reached underneath the table and pulled out a tattered guitar case that he'd cleverly hidden there. "My brother and I share this guitar, so I couldn't show it to you before, but he's gone camping with a friend for the week." 

The instrument evoked exactly the excited response in Brian that Freddie had expected - the lad was practically bouncing up and down with glee. "Deaky play?" he prodded. "Deaky play now?" 

"Eh," Deaky hesitated, and he looked around the table uncertainly. "Actually I thought maybe Roger might want to-" 

Freddie and Roger exchanged knowing looks. It was a well-known fact that Deaky was actually a far superior player to his brother Tom - even though he was mostly self-taught and Tom had been taking lessons for almost five years - but the only one who didn't seem to acknowledge this was Deaky himself. 

"Go on, Deaks," Roger encouraged, and Freddie nodded in agreement. "If Brian's gonna learn, he better learn from someone who's got 'it' in the fingers. I just like to pose with guitars when there's girls around." 

Deaky blushed but reluctantly complied, taking the guitar on his knee and beginning to strum. He looked so painfully self-conscious that Freddie, who recognised the tune at once, jumped in to provide vocals. Unlike Deaky, he didn't mind being the centre of attention.

 _Well be-bop-a-lula, she's my baby  
Be-bop-a-lula, I don't mean maybe_

And because he was physically incapable of sitting still and singing at the same time, he got up from the bench and danced like the music moved him to do, sashaying around the table while Roger did his bit by improvising a drum riff on the tabletop. Brian wasn't distracted by their shenanigans, however, big eyes glued to what Deaky's fingers were doing on the strings. Only the slight bobbing of his head betrayed that he wasn't just paying close attention but feeling the music as well. 

_Be-bop-a-lula, she's my baby doll  
My baby doll, my baby doll - wooo!_

Freddie punched the air and then Deaky's shoulder. "Deaks, you're a bloody legend, you know that?" 

"I'm hardly legend material, Fred," Deaky countered, rubbing his shoulder with a grimace. "That's more your thing, I'd say." 

"Give it time, darling. Give it time." Freddie hadn't figured out yet what he wanted to be when he grew up, but that he would catch the first train out of this place the minute he finished school was for sure. For a while now, he'd been convinced that he had something to offer the world - he just wasn't sure yet what it was. 

"D'you wanna have a go, Bri?" Deaky offered, and he chuckled at the look of shock and surprise Brian gave him. "Yeah, you didn't think I'd only brought this thing out here just to show off, did you? Go on, take it. See how that feels." 

Still looking like he couldn't believe what was happening, Brian gingerly took the proffered instrument and placed it on his knee as if it were made of fragile crystal. Still, something seemed to click in that moment, and a gentle smile appeared on his face as he slowly ran his finger over the tuners and gripped the neck with his left hand, strumming experimentally with the right. 

"Hey, that doesn't look too shabby, Bri," Roger commented. "You sure it's your first time?" 

"What means shabby?" Brian asked curiously. 

"It means you're looking pretty good with that guitar, mate," Roger grinned, and Brian understood that well enough, as he beamed with delight and pride. 

"Brian play Deaky song," he stated, evidently emboldened by Roger's compliment, sliding his fingers upwards along the neck of the guitar. 

Deaky chuckled. "I'm sorry to say I didn't write that, Bri. That was a bloke called Gene Vincent-" 

He trailed off mid sentence, and the three of them looked on with growing astonishment as Brian's unpractised fingers glided across the strings somewhat stiffly but with unexpected accuracy, and he produced the first few tentative chords of what was undeniably the main riff of _Be-Bop-A-Lula_. 

"Well I'll be-" Roger didn't finish, mouth hanging open in disbelief as Brian went even further and played several different licks from the song. They weren't perfectly executed and some of them were in the wrong order, but keeping in mind that he had never even held a guitar until now, it was nothing short of gobsmacking. Even Freddie, who'd thought he pretty much knew what his friend was capable of, was frozen in place with the Coke bottle lifted halfway to his lips. 

"How?" Deaky spluttered. "How does he _do_ that?" 

"He's got to have one of those photographic memory... things," Roger said slowly. "He's learned like half the song already just by watching you and memorising the finger positions." 

"Could be," Freddie nodded. Meanwhile Brian had gone off on a tangent experimenting, head cocked slightly to the side as he tried different things and listened to how they sounded. He appeared completely lost in his own world, so much so that they almost didn't dare move for fear of breaking the spell, but eventually he became aware of the way they were gawking at him and stopped, a blush of self-consciousness touching his cheeks. Regretfully, he offered the guitar back to Deaky. 

"It's... it's okay," Deaky stammered. "I don't need it back right away, not until my brother gets home. You can keep practising at Freddie's." 

"Are you sure, Deak?" Freddie asked. That guitar was quite possibly Deaky's most cherished possession and to offer it to Brian like this was a sign of trust if he'd ever seen one. "If your Mum notices..." 

He shrugged, looking somewhat embarrassed. "If she does, I'll make something up, don't worry. Let Brian have it while he can. It's only for a couple of days, right?" 

"Yeah." Freddie's guts churned at the reminder. "Guys, about that. We need to come up with a plan and we need to do it really fucking fast. My Dad comes home in three days and we _have_ to find Brian a safe place before then. We owe him that. So let's stop horsing around and put our thinking caps on, okay?" 

The other two nodded in grave agreement, all of them looking at each other uncertainly. No one, it seemed, had any brilliant ideas to share right off the bat. 

"Right," Roger sighed, and he rummaged through the pockets of his denims to dig up an impressive variety of toffees and other sweets, dumping them in a pile on the table. "Help yourselves, guys. Looks like we're going to be here a while."


	8. viii

"Here," Roger said, pointing at a nondescript patch of grass under an equally nondescript tree by the side of the road. "This is where we first saw Brian. He was sitting right under that tree." 

Freddie turned his head, peering thoughtfully up and down the unpaved road, dry and dusty from the recent lack of rain in this unusually hot English summer. Like a grayish ribbon it meandered across the landscape, separating two vast fields of man-high corn. They'd come out here after dropping off Deaky's guitar and Roger's puzzles at Freddie's house, in hopes of finding any traces or helpful clues as to how Brian had ended up here. Returning to the scene of the crime - so to speak - would have to give them the answers the library had failed to provide. 

"You're absolutely sure it was here? All these trees look alike to me, and there aren't any other markers as far as I can see." 

"Yeah." Roger looked offended that Freddie would even call his memory into question. "He was just sitting there like he was waiting for the bus, dressed in those white clothes, not a smudge or mark on him. It really was the most bizarre thing." 

"How did he look when you showed up? Relieved?" 

"I wouldn't say relieved," Roger said slowly. "More like... fascinated. By our bikes, by us. My glasses." 

Freddie smiled at that; the other day, Roger had handed his glasses over to Brian to try on, and they'd all laughed at the way he'd scrunched up his face and quickly given them back. 

"Didn't take much to persuade him to tag along, either," Deaky added. "'Better come with us,' we told him, and he did, easy as that. Didn't seem all that sorry to leave this place." 

Freddie looked at the dense rows of seemingly impenetrable corn and then at Brian, who'd knelt by the wayside to study the busy doings of an ant colony. "Bri, do you remember this place?" Without looking up, Brian nodded. 

"Is this where you first saw Deaky and Roger?" Another nod. "How did you get here? Can you show us?" Unsure if Brian had understood him, Freddie went over and got down on his haunches in front of him. The lad suddenly seemed eye shy, a novelty for him. "Bri, this is important. We want to help. Can you show us where you were before you met Deaky and Roger?" 

Brian bit his lip, turning his head as if to peruse the landscape. Freddie waited patiently. Brian's mind was inscrutable a lot of the time, he found, but never more so than now. Finally they both got to their feet and Brian pointed west, towards the sea of corn. 

"I guess that's a start," Roger said. 

Freddie nodded. "Let's go check it out." 

They hid their bikes in the drainage ditch by the side of the road - Farmer Reid was friendly enough, as long as you didn't get into his crops, and seeing their abandoned bikes would tell him for sure there were trespassers about - and set off in a westbound direction. 

To their surprise, Brian was uncharacteristically reluctant to enter the cornfield. Freddie had to reassure him and do a fair amount of pleading before he gave up his resistance and followed, soon falling a few paces behind the others. Determined that they all stay together, Freddie waited for him to catch up and took his hand, gently coaxing him forward as they picked their way along the narrow paths in single file. It was cooler here at least, the leaves and gently swaying plumes above their heads providing some welcome shade and respite from the blistering heat. Still, Freddie could feel his throat itch and thought with some longing of the bottle of Coke they'd finished a long time ago. An ice cold glass of his mother's lemonade would go down very well, too. 

They walked for what felt like a long time, though it could just be the monotony of their surroundings that made it seem that way, this claustrophobic forest of green stilts that seemed never-ending. They spoke little, too, as sound didn't carry very well here, and there were moments when Freddie wished he could stop for a moment and get re-orientated, but he trusted Roger, the only boy scout in their company, not to lead them astray. Every now and then, he glanced over his shoulder to smile reassuringly at Brian, who seemed even quieter than usual. 

"Heads up," Deaky called over his shoulder, "Roger thinks he sees something." 

They had walked maybe thirty more paces when suddenly, the forest seemed to give way before them and they stepped into a clearing. It was like someone had switched on a light, and they all found themselves staring at the blue sky overhead in wonder before turning their attention to what they'd stumbled across - an open space, no more than twenty feet in diameter, and within that space not a single plant had been left standing. Some stalks were broken at the base or snapped in half, others were completely flattened, unclear was by what sort of object or event. It was as if a giant had passed through the area and stepped into this field of corn, leaving one single footprint behind. 

"Right, lads, looks like we've found the landing site," Roger said matter-of-factly, pushing his glasses up his nose. He looked a bit ashen in the face, the only sign that his nonchalance was just a front. 

"Is Brian all right?" Deaky asked suddenly, and they all looked over at Brian, who was standing a little behind Freddie, looking very withdrawn. "Bri, what's wrong?" 

"I don't think he likes it here," Freddie said when Brian didn't respond. He was still holding his hand and could feel him wanting to pull away from this place. "Maybe we shouldn't have come." 

"We had to, Fred," Deaky said reasonably. "Come on, let's get a move on and have a look around before it gets too late. My Mum isn't going to be too happy with me as it is." 

They did a thorough sweep of the entire clearing, noses close to the ground as they lifted up leaves to look underneath and raked their fingers through the soil, but despite their best efforts they found nothing worth noting other than a couple earthworms and a whole lot of crushed corn. It was another bitter disappointment for them to swallow, especially since this had been their number one plan and Freddie was sure they'd all had high hopes. He certainly had. 

"Maybe we should spread out," Roger suggested hesitantly, "we can cover more ground that way." 

"No," Freddie said resolutely, "we stay together. No matter what." 

Roger nodded and didn't insist, looking almost slightly relieved that Freddie hadn't given the idea his endorsement. Perhaps they all felt uncomfortably hemmed in by the isolation of this place, so remote from the world they knew and eerily devoid of sound except for the rustling of leaves in the summer breeze. Earlier, they had considered the option of coming out here after dark and signalling with flashlights - whatever good it might do - but Freddie thought it was probably safe to say that idea was now firmly off the table for all of them. 

"Home," Brian suddenly said, and they all startled - it had been a while since Brian reminded them he had a voice at all. It sounded small and full of yearning. 

"Getting you home is what we're trying to do, mate," Roger sighed, bending over to slap the dirt from his prized sneakers. 

Freddie's stomach rumbled. The candy they'd shared in the park was definitely not enough to sustain any of them in the long run, and he couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that they'd made a mistake in coming here. 

They waited for a couple minutes longer, hoping against hope that some sort of miracle or solution for their problems would descend from the heavens, but eventually they accepted defeat and formed a despondent little procession back through the corn. This time Brian didn't need coaxing, to the contrary - he led the way on quiet feet, barely disturbing a leaf as he navigated the green labyrinth seemingly effortlessly. 

"Fred," said Deaky, trailing behind with Freddie and lowering his voice to a whisper. "What do we do if... if we can't figure this thing out? If we can't get him home?" 

"Then we fall back on Plan B, I guess," Freddie said reluctantly. 

Deaky looked deeply concerned. "I don't like Plan B." 

"Neither do I. That's why it's only a last resort." 

"Are you absolutely sure you can't talk to your father...?" Deaky asked hopefully. "I know he's strict and all, but he's not cruel. He wouldn't just hand Brian over to the authorities like some sort of criminal, would he?" 

"Not to be cruel, no," Freddie said, "but because he'd say it was 'the right thing'. Grownups say that a lot, have you noticed? They're always trying to do the right thing, or what they think is the right thing, anyway. And Brian has no papers, no guardians, no identity. He might end up in an orphanage, or God forbid, in a laboratory like Roger said. I don't want that on my conscience, do you?" 

Deaky shook his head unhappily, and Freddie briefly squeezed his shoulder to try and cheer him up, even though right at this moment, he didn't have much cheer to spare. They picked up the pace to avoid losing sight of the two in front, walking the rest of the way joined in grim silence.


	9. ix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a spin on a famous encounter from the Queen lore :) Caution: some slurs (including the f-slur) are used (not by our sweet boys, though).

"What is wrong with you boys?" Jer Bulsara asked her son. "You've all been out of sorts since you came back from the park. Especially you, Freddie." 

Freddie shrugged. After lunch, the four of them had taken to the back garden, playing a listless game of football - Brian had improved a lot already and didn't use his hands nearly as much - and barely speaking with one another. It was clear that their discovery in the cornfield, and the strange energy they'd felt there, was still very much on all of their minds. "I don't know, Mum. We didn't fight, or anything like that. Just having one of those days, I guess." 

"Bored of all that spare time already?" she teased. "I have a thousand chores that need doing if you're interested." 

"Very funny, Mum." 

"Why don't you take the boys up to your room and listen to some records?" 

He shrugged again. "Nah." 

"Oh dear." She stopped what she was doing - topping and tailing the green beans in preparation for tonight's dinner - and considered him for a moment. "Tell me what's bothering you, _beta_." 

He sighed and glanced over at his three friends to make sure they were out of earshot. He was close to his Mum and it actually killed him that he couldn't be straightforward with her, but he could tell her a partial truth, at least. "It makes me sad that Brian has to leave soon." 

She smiled gently and stroked his hair. "You like him, don't you? He's a sweet boy, and I'm pleased you've become such good friends. I know London feels like a world away, but he'll always be welcome to visit, Freddie." 

"I know, Mum." 

Mrs. Bulsara dried her hands on her apron, looking over thoughtfully at the other three boys playing unusually quietly in her back yard. "I have an idea," she said after a moment, "but it's a bit naughty, and your father probably wouldn't approve." 

_Well. This was something new._

"I like the sound of that, Mum," Freddie said, his interest piqued. 

"How about I put these away," she said, indicating the pot of beans, "and take you boys and Kashmira to the fun fair instead?" 

Magic words if Freddie had ever heard any, and _completely_ unexpected. "Oh yes, Mum, _please do_ ," he begged as he spontaneously threw both arms around her waist, not caring what his friends would think. Yes, he was a mummy's boy, and what of it? 

Needless to say that Roger and Deaky were immediately and unequivocally on board with the idea, as they rarely got to go to the fun fair and the outing would provide some welcome diversion for all of them. They got quite a scare, however, when Mrs. Bulsara picked up the phone to call their parents - if she so much as mentioned Brian to Deaky's Mum, all their lies might come out. 

Again, it was Deaky who saved the day by putting on his sweetest face and offering to call his Mum himself. When Mrs. Bulsara agreed and handed him the receiver, Freddie let out a breath of relief. At the same time, the incident reminded him how precariously close to discovery they had just come and might come again. They were doing it all for Brian's safety, he knew that, but he didn't like deceiving his Mum this way. 

Travelling by bus and train, it took about an hour to get from their village to the nearest seaside town, a destination that drew a respectable amount of tourists from the UK and beyond. It boasted, among other things, a Victorian pier, a small amusement park a stone's throw from the beach and at least twenty fish restaurants. 

Brian, who'd already had the time of his life during the train ride into town gazing out the window and playing 'I Spy' with the others, continued to fall from one surprise into another as they explored the fairground with its bright colours, activity and movement everywhere and happy music blasting from the speakers. Freddie worried it might almost be too much for his alien friend to take in at once, but Brian never gave a sign of being intimidated or overwhelmed by all this sensory input. He wanted to try all the attractions - including the kiddie ones that were really tailored to much younger children, like the carousel and fire trucks - and had a hilarious first encounter with candy floss that left everyone in stitches. 

It was fascinating - Freddie mused as he watched Brian clowning around with the sticky substance, apparently well aware of the comedic effect he was having and even overdoing it for more laughs - to see Brian not just reacting to his environment but actively taking part in it, his personality and sense of humour starting to shine through. In spite of his 'otherness', he really was just a kid like them, and Freddie was grateful that no one seemed to be thinking of the cornfield anymore, at least for the time being. 

"Where to next?" Roger asked, always eager for that next experience. "The haunted house?" 

"Yes!" Freddie and Deaky chorused, and Kash looked plaintively at her mother. "Me too, Mum. Can I go?" 

"All right, but stay with the boys," Jer instructed her daughter. "Freddie, look after your sister. I'll wait for you by the exit." 

Barely had they gotten in line to get their tickets or they heard a mocking voice behind them. 

"Hey look - it's Freaky Bulsara and the other misfits." 

Freddie turned around and found himself looking at the pimply face of Sid, an older boy he knew from school. Sid was twelve and a regular in the dean's office - his common transgressions included vandalism, persistent bullying and word around school was that he'd already been caught shoplifting. In other words, he was trouble and most kids in school knew better than to get in his path. Freddie usually steered clear as well, not because he was afraid but because he felt this first class moron wasn't worth the time. Today, as on most other days, Sid was accompanied by his claque of friends, fine specimens in their own right, who tagged along seemingly for the sole purpose of laughing at his dumb jokes. 

"Got stuck babysitting your little sister, freak?" Sid continued, with a look at Kash. "You're such a loser." 

"Sod off, Sid," Roger said. He wasn't scared either; in fact, he and Sid had already come to blows on school grounds once or twice. It had gotten them both suspended for a week. Only Deaky had shrunk into the background a little bit at Sid's appearance, and Brian was watching things unfold the way he always did - with a curious, open gaze. 

"Shut up, Taylor," Sid barked back. "I'm talking to this loser over here, him with the teeth. God, they really are ugly, aren't they?" 

"Maybe," Freddie smiled, "but at least my skin is clear, Sidney." Beside him he heard Kash giggle. It always got Sid's goat when Freddie called him by his full name, and this time, too, he grew red with anger. 

"What are you laughing at, midget?" he asked, turning his vitriol on Kash. Freddie grasped her hand instinctively, ready to defend her, but Kash was no wilting flower. 

"You, what do you think?" she said, still giggling. Sid grew even redder. "Serves you right for insulting my brother's teeth." 

"What's wrong, Bulsara?" one of Sid's wingmen piped up. "Your filthy immigrant father too stingy to pay for the dentist? If my teeth looked like that, they would've been fixed a long time ago." 

"Too bad your Dad's money can't fix your sucky personality," Freddie said, and this time it was Roger and Deaky who snorted with laughter. The older boys glared at them both, and Freddie wondered what tired insult they'd pull from their arsenal next. Probably something about Roger's spectacles or Deaky's hand-me-down clothes. They'd heard it all before. 

"Look, Sid," one of the boys said as he nudged him with his elbow. "They've found another faggot for their club of faggots." He pointed at Brian. "This one looks even more like a girl than the rest. He's got a perm and everything." 

"That's his real hair, stupid," Kash said indignantly, and Roger apparently also decided he had enough. 

"Look, guys," he said, striking a tone a tired mother would use to a couple of moody toddlers, "it's always a pleasure trading insults with you, but let's leave it at this for today, yeah? One can have too much of a good thing." 

"Fucking nerd," Sid muttered, but to Freddie's surprise, they seemed to realise that the fun fair had better pursuits to offer than taunting a couple of ten-year-olds and continued on their way. 

"See you in a couple of weeks, fag," Sid said before he left, and he spat on the ground in front of Freddie's feet. Freddie, unimpressed, almost zinged him with another retort but thought the better of it. They'd have the whole school year for this nonsense. 

"Who _was_ that?" Kash asked as they rejoined the queue. 

"Oh, just Sid," Freddie shrugged. "Some bully from our school." 

"Seems like a right idiot," she said, and Freddie laughed, feeling strangely proud of his firecracker sister. 

"You're bloody amazing, you know that?" he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. 

"Yuck." She made a face, and he loved her even more for it. "He just made me mad. You and I can stick up for ourselves, but Brian can't, can he? So when they pick on him, that's just low and mean." 

"No, he can't stick up for himself," Freddie said thoughtfully. "Not yet, at any rate. But he can learn to. And you know what?" 

"What?" 

"Between the two of us, he has the advantage of learning from the very best."


	10. x

The run-in with Sid was really the only blemish on an otherwise perfect afternoon. Like a single cloud in the sky obscuring the sun on a summer's day and briefly stealing its warmth, so this incident was forgotten soon afterwards, even laughed about when Roger pointed at a particularly hideous monster inside the haunted house and drily said, much to the hilarity of the others, "Look, if it isn't our friend Sidney again." By the time they stepped outside again, excitedly talking about everything they'd just seen, it was as if nothing had happened in the first place.

They spent a few hours at the fairground, all in all, coming away with sunburnt noses and quite a few prizes - Brian had proven to be quite the star at the cork shooting booth and chosen a music box and a teddy bear to take home, the latter of which he shyly gave to Kash. By then it was going on dinnertime, so Mrs. Bulsara treated them to fish and chips takeaway - a dinner fit for a king, in their opinion - and to top things off there was even some time left after that to go down to the beach and greet the sea. Its vastness seemed to hold Brian entranced, and while the others were quick to pull off their shoes, socks and shirts to run into the surf, he hesitated - but not for very long.

"Come on, Brian!" Roger yelled as the inevitable water fight broke out in the shallows, "The water's nice and warm!"

It was all the encouragement Brian needed to strip as well and join in on the fun. It all got very silly and rowdy very quickly, and inevitably they all got soaked through and through, although they were careful not to target Brian too relentlessly as he couldn't swim and a gulp of salty seawater was fun for no one. Still, when Freddie's Mum finally called at them to wrap things up, Brian emerged from the frenzy looking like a wet poodle, red-eyed and dripping. Jer had to dedicate a fair amount of time to rubbing his hair with one of the towels from her bag in order to make him look like himself again.

"Sea good," he declared, clearly having decided that he could do this again any day, and Freddie grinned, pleased with the endorsement so wholeheartedly given.

"This was the best day ever," he told his Mum as they made their way back to the pier, and he leaned in to give her a quick, but fierce, hug. "Thanks, Mum." He thought he'd been stealthy about it, but when he pulled away he caught Brian looking at them both. There was, as always, curiosity in his gaze, but this time, something just behind the eyes suggested a little wistfulness as well.

In the train on the way home, Kash quickly fell asleep on her mother's shoulder, the teddy bear Brian had given her tucked in the crook of her arm. The boys, too, were a lot quieter, albeit for all the good reasons this time, and by the time they got back to the Bulsara house it was definitely bedtime for all of them. Roger and Deaky thanked Jer profusely for the lovely day and rode off on their bikes while Jer carried Kash up the stairs to tuck her in, telling Freddie and Brian to get themselves to bed and quickly. For once, Freddie didn't have to be told twice.

That night, tough, for reasons unclear, Freddie woke up at a strange hour - perhaps it was a sound, a dream, or simply the excitement of everything that had happened that day still running through his subconscious - to a room completely shrouded in darkness. Even the little desk lamp that Brian usually used at night was turned off. Freddie glanced at his alarm clock - almost 3 AM. Suddenly worried, he sat up in bed and looked around, spotting Brian's silhouette at the window. The curtains were open and he was sitting there completely still, elbows on the windowsill and chin in his hands as he contemplated the night sky.

"Brian? Are you all right?" Freddie quietly slipped out of bed and approached, glancing over at the desk on top of which several finished puzzles could be seen. He knelt down beside Brian and looked out, gasping quietly. Up there, winking down at them from the black celestial mantle, were hundreds of stars, but even more striking than that was the moon. Completely unobscured it hung there, big and bright and flawlessly round. It was a spectacle Freddie didn't often see. He took it all in for a few minutes, then looked sidelong at Brian's unreadable profile. "Do you miss it?"

At this, Brian turned his head to face him. "Miss?"

"Yeah, you know." Freddie racked his brain. He had never realised how difficult it would be to explain abstract things like feelings and emotions to someone who communicated in a different way. "Does it hurt when you think of where you came from? Like, inside?" He laid a hand over his chest. "Does it make you sad?"

Brian shrugged and looked at his hands. It was only now that Freddie realised he was holding a little object - the music box he'd won at the shooting booth that afternoon. Slowly he wound it up and it began to spin, releasing a sweet, melancholy little tune. Almost reverently, Brian set it down on the windowsill and they continued gazing out the window in silence as it played.

"Freddie," Brian said when the music eventually slowed down and stopped, and he pointed at the little box. "Name?"

"It's _Clair de Lune_ ," Freddie said. He felt surprisingly awake. The music, in all its simplicity, had moved him. "By Debussy. It means 'moonlight'. A lovely little gem of a piece. And kind of fitting, wouldn't you agree?"

Brian smiled - apparently he understood, because he turned back to look up at the moon once more. Freddie did not, studying his friend's face instead. In the light of the moon, it looked serene - if there was sadness, Freddie didn't see it.

"I really wish I knew what's going on in your head right now," he said softly. "I wish you could tell me what happened to you, and why you seemed to get so upset at the cornfield today. I'm sorry we took you to that place, Brian."

Brian looked at him, blinking slowly. Even now, Freddie still couldn't tell most of the time how much of what he was saying actually sank in. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Bri?" he asked gently. Perhaps he shouldn't bring up the cornfield again, but somehow this felt important. "You were sad today, and that makes me sad, too."

Brian nodded thoughtfully. "Yes," he said, "Brian understand. Brian sad, Freddie sad."

"Exactly. But we just want to help, Brian, I hope you know that. We want to help you find your family."

Freddie could tell from Brian's expression that he'd lost him again. "Family?"

"Yeah. Hang on..." Freddie got up and opened the chest at the foot of his bed, feeling his way around until he located one of the photo albums his Mum had so faithfully kept. This was certainly the first and only time he'd voluntarily show it to anyone, he thought to himself as he grabbed a flashlight as well and pulled up a chair for himself.

"Look," he said, taking the album on his knees and shining with the flashlight, "that's me as a baby. And this is me in my short-lived boxing days. Can you tell it's me? I'm sure you can, by the teeth if nothing else."

Brian leaned in to peruse the pictures, a quizzical frown on his brow. "Freddie?" he said uncertainly.

"Yes, it's all me, growing up. And here is Kash, see? She was a beautiful baby - not as beautiful as me, of course. Here are my Mum and Dad... and here, all four of us together." He pointed at a family portrait, taken when he was about eight years old. "This is my family. Do you understand? Mother, father, sister, me. Family belongs together. We want to find yours. Surely you have a Mum who loves you and misses you?"

"Family," Brian repeated slowly, nodding, and Freddie felt proud of himself for having successfully explained the concept. Brian was fascinated with the photographs, leafing through the entire album. He seemed bewildered by the fact that Freddie had come into the world as a tiny, hairless infant, as if he'd expected Freddie to have sprung up fully formed instead. When he had reached the final page and Freddie put the album away, he sat with his hands in his lap for a few minutes, looking so lost in thought that Freddie didn't have the heart to badger him with any more questions.

Who was this boy sitting next to him? What was his story?

"Freddie," Brian finally said, and just from that one word Freddie could tell that he was about to ask something he'd been mulling over for a while, so he smiled and nodded encouragingly. "What means faggot?"

Freddie physically recoiled. He hadn't meant to, but it happened anyway. He'd heard the insult so many times before - today at the haunted house hadn't been the first time and it would be far from the last - and he'd thought it couldn't hurt him anymore, but to hear Brian say it, in that sweet, innocent voice, was like a punch to the gut. He opened his mouth, stared at Brian, and felt an unexpected rush of tears to his eyes. Quickly, he turned away to face the wall as he fought to get his emotions under control, taken aback by the intensity of his own reaction. Apparently this went deeper still than even he had known.

Before long, he felt a hand cautiously touch his shoulder. "Freddie. Brian sorry."

"What the hell do you have to be sorry for?" Still facing away, Freddie wiped at his eyes to make sure they were dry before he turned around, angry with himself for reacting this way. "You did nothing wrong."

"Brian make Freddie sad."

"No." Finally trusting himself enough to face Brian, Freddie turned around. Brian looked anxious, confused by what his question had triggered. "This is not your fault, okay? You couldn't know. You were only asking a question, and you know what? It's a good thing you did. Because 'faggot' is not a good word, Brian. It's a bad word people use to hurt others."

Brian cocked his head. "Why?"

"Because some people don't like folks who are different. It makes them nervous. So sometimes they put those people down by calling them ugly names. People aren't always nice to each other, Bri. In fact, sometimes they treat each other really awfully. Sid, the kid we saw today, isn't a very nice guy. He likes to call people ugly names a lot. But at the end of the day, those are just words, you know? If you let them get to you, or show people that they've hurt your feelings, you're only giving them power over you." He paused and caught his breath. He hadn't meant to say this much. "Do you understand?"

Brian nodded. "Brian understand. Sid not nice, make Freddie sad with bad word."

"Yeah." Freddie chuckled, impressed that Brian had distilled the essence into just a few words. "Hey, you're getting pretty good at this, Bri. Talking, chatting up a storm. I'm proud of you."

"Brian talk better now."

"You sure do, mate. Now we just have to teach you the alphabet proper and you'll be unstoppable." Freddie sighed, the smile slowly fading from his face as he switched the flashlight on and off, on and off, on and off. In the end, he left it off. "You want to know something, though?" Suddenly, his heart was beating in his throat, very fast and loud, so loud surely that Brian could hear it. "I _am_ different. In more ways than Roger and Deaky are different. That word that Sid called me? I think - I think I might be... that."

 _Coward_ , he told himself. It was the first time he'd allowed himself to put these thoughts that he'd been having for a while into words. Even Roger and Deaky as of yet had no idea. _What exactly are you doing here? What even is the point? Of course Brian won't turn a hair at what you're saying - he won't have a clue what it means!_

"Freddie different," Brian said slowly. "Different bad?"

"I don't think so, but to a lot of people, yeah. People who are different like me get a lot of hate, every day, everywhere in the world. Which is why I haven't told anyone this before now." He got to his feet, pressing his forehead against the cool window and letting out a flat, joyless laugh. "It's funny, isn't it? Of all the people I know, the one person I'm the least scared will judge me is an alien."

There were a few beats of silence. Then, he heard Brian also getting up behind him, joining him at the windowsill a moment later. Even if he didn't fully grasp the meaning of Freddie's confession, he was very sensitive to mood changes and the depth of Freddie's inner struggle wasn't lost on him.

"Freddie not bad. Freddie good." The sweet simplicity of the statement went straight to Freddie's heart, and he felt tears welling up once more.

"Brian," he stammered, unable to keep the words from bubbling up inside him and spilling out. "I think I might be queer."

Brian just smiled at him, head slightly cocked, and although Freddie hated himself for his selfishness it felt good, _so good_ , to say those words and get such a reaction - or rather, a lack of one. He knew it would be too much to hope that even the people who loved him most in the world would react this calmly when the time came. He sobbed, once, the sound raw and painfully loud in the otherwise so quiet house.

"Not cry, Freddie. Not sad." Before Freddie knew what was happening, Brian had leaned in close and put his arms around him, not unlike he'd observed Freddie doing to his Mum at the beach that day. It felt like something genuine, from the heart - not just an act of mimicry - and even though Freddie wasn't used to boys his age exchanging gestures of affection and comfort like this, it immediately felt good - so good that he only hesitated a moment before returning the hug and pressing his cheek to Brian's. Some of those curls tickled his nose, but he didn't mind that either - faintly dwelling in them was still the scent of sea salt and sunshine, evoking only happy memories that made him smile.

It would probably be quite a few years before he gathered the courage to utter the words he'd just said to anyone else. Until then, it could just be a secret between him, Brian, and the moon.


	11. xi

"Yesterday was brilliant fun, wasn't it?" Roger sighed as he stretched himself blissfully on the grass and folded his arms beneath his head. No one appreciated summer more than Roger, his shaggy, naturally blond hair shot with sun streaks. "Your Mum is the coolest, Fred." 

"She really is," Deaky agreed. 

They were back at one of their favourite spots by the river today, well off the public road so they were sure not to be overheard. They happened to know it was a good fishing spot, too, although they hadn't brought their rods this time. What they  _had_ brought was the guitar - so Deaky could teach Brian a couple more riffs, which he'd been doing all morning - and some of the goodies they'd scored at the fair, candy mostly. 

"Yeah," Freddie said, feeling more pleased with the compliment than he cared to admit, "I know." 

"Everyone at my house was _insanely_ jealous," Roger said, gleefully chewing his gum and blowing a big bubble. This, much to the delight of Brian, who seemed to enjoy the pop most of all. He was still learning the delicate art of bubble blowing himself, but for now he seemed perfectly content with the cherry lollipop tucked into his cheek. "What about you, Bri? Did you have fun yesterday?" Brian nodded emphatically. He took the lolly from his mouth and stuck his tongue out as far as it would go, going cross-eyed to check how red it was. "Yeah? What was your favourite bit?" 

"Sea," Brian said without a moment's hesitation, eyes lighting up at the memory. "Brian like sea a lot. But Brian not swim, like fish." 

"That's okay," Deaky said. "Swimming is something you can learn. It just takes time. And practice, of course. We had to learn it, too." 

"Yes, Brian learn. Learn words, eat, guitar. Learn swim, too. Yes?" 

Before Deaky could respond, Freddie poked him in the ribs and gave him a warning look. _Don't make any promises you can't keep_ , that look said, and a shadow passed over Deaky's face. 

"Your turn, Bri," he said, quickly putting on a smile and giving him the guitar. "Come on, let's hear a little _Be-Bop-A-Lula_. Like I showed you, okay? From the beginning this time." 

As Brian obliged, Roger sat up a little and leaned in to Freddie, lowering his voice so as not to disturb Brian's playing. "So how did he do on those puzzles?" 

"Hm, what? Oh. Finished them all," Freddie absently replied. 

"You're joking. All of them? Already?" 

"Mmm. I think it's okay though, we don't have to keep finding him distractions. Last night he actually got in bed and slept for a couple hours." 

_"What!"_

Freddie nodded sheepishly. He hadn't breathed a word to Roger and Deaky about his heart-to-heart with Brian the night before - for obvious reasons - but it was true. When Freddie got himself back to bed afterwards, he'd been surprised to see Brian close the curtains and follow suit, crawling into his cot and pulling the sheet over himself. "Brian sleep now," he'd explained when he saw Freddie staring, "like Freddie." Even more astonishingly, he was lost to the world barely two minutes later and was still asleep when Mrs. Bulsara woke them for breakfast the next morning. 

"Well," Roger whispered when Freddie told him this, "that's a good thing, isn't it? Makes our lives a lot easier." 

"Sure. But..." Freddie glanced at Brian, who was sitting there with a guitar in his lap, playing rockabilly like it was second nature to him. It truly was mind-boggling how quickly he learned things, how he kept surprising them with new words, new skills, every single day. And yet- 

"But what?" 

Freddie bit his lip. "Ah, I don't know, Rog. I can't help but wonder... is it all in his own interest? Aren't we turning him too human, in a way?" 

Roger stared at him like he'd gone bonkers. "How d'you reckon that? It's great how quickly he's adapting! The better he fits in, the safer he is from discovery. Isn't that what we want?" 

"Yeah, but..." Freddie shrugged. Perhaps he shouldn't have said anything. "The whole point of what we're doing is to get him home safely, isn't it? I can't help but think... What if he picks up too many human habits and his kind reject him because of it? That happens in the wild, too. We learned about it in biology. And I'm sure they teach you that in boy scouts, too." 

"I'm sure it doesn't work like that in space," Roger said, but he didn't _sound_ sure. And how could he be? They were just guessing - all the time, guessing. It was frustrating Freddie to no end. 

"Maybe not, but what if it does? Then he won't belong anywhere, and it'll be our fault." 

Suddenly the sun seemed to shine a little less brightly, and they both lapsed into silence as they observed Brian, who was playing the guitar in utter concentration. He really took to the instrument like a duck to water - it didn't all come out the way it should, but he seemed to possess a good ear and, just as importantly, he played with feeling. 

_I wonder how good he can get._ The thought invaded Freddie's mind unbidden, taunting him almost. Yes, it was tempting to dwell on the what-ifs, but his Dad came home in two short days, and that was the reality of it all. They had to stop wasting time daydreaming and idling about like summer would last forever. Brian needed a safe place to go, even if it was temporary. 

"So what do we do next?" Roger asked hesitantly. "Go back the cornfield and try having another nosey around?" 

"What good will that do?" 

Roger shrugged. "You never know. We were a bit rushed yesterday, perhaps if we went back and took more time, combed out the entire field..." 

"The entire field? Rog, it'd take days." Freddie shook his head. "Besides, I really don't think we're going to find anything out there that's going to help us. We'll only waste time. And I'm not taking Brian back there either, for that matter." 

"Why not? He is talking better every day, maybe he could tell us what happened there. If we asked the right questions-" 

"We're not doing it, Rog," Freddie cut him short. To him, this was a non-negotiable issue. "He didn't like it there, and I don't want to force him. I just don't feel good about it." 

"Right, so what do you suggest we do then?" Roger took his glasses off and wiped them on his shirt. "You're not thinking of doing a runner, you and Bri, are you? Because you wouldn't even make it to the next town before they caught you." 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Freddie drily replied. "And no, of course I know that's a stupid idea. Couldn't do that to my Mum, either." 

"Well, I'm all fresh out of ideas. Unless you fancy calling up the Soviets and asking them to save Brian a seat on the next Sputnik. How's your Russian these days, Fred?" 

"Very helpful, Rog." Roger was being facetious obviously, but Freddie wasn't in the mood. "Glad you're taking this seriously." 

"I am taking it seriously. But I'm also trying to keep a sense of humour about it all. And I think it's great that Brian is learning all this new stuff. I mean, look at him jamming, having a blast. How can you think that's a bad thing?" 

"I never said that," Freddie said, a little testily. Like all friends, he and Roger butted heads sometimes, especially over things they both cared passionately about. "This week has been the most fun I've had in ages and I wish it could go on forever. But Brian is just a kid, like us, and all kids should have a family. I don't want to ruin his chances of finding his way back home. But every idea we've come up with feels so small now, so inadequate. Entire civilisations have been trying to establish contact with aliens since forever and failed, why should we succeed? Let's face it - we're not equipped to handle this." 

"What are you saying, Freddie?" Deaky asked softly. He hadn't said much, focusing his attention on Brian and his playing while the other two deliberated, but clearly he'd heard every word. Deaky always had a way of getting to the core of an issue and there was a look of reluctant resignation in his eyes that told Freddie he knew very well what he was saying - he just wanted him to bite the bullet and come out with it already. 

"I think the time has come for Plan B." Their faces fell, and Freddie wished things were different. Plan B was as simple as it was risky, and it meant going back on a promise they'd made each other at the start of all this, but from where they were he couldn't see any other way. For all their good intentions, they were in over their heads with this one, so perhaps this had been inevitable all along. They needed help, advice, and those things could only come from one place. 

They had to tell an adult about Brian.


	12. xii

But who to tell? 

They spent the remainder of the morning trying to answer that question, which proved no easy feat in itself. Which adult did they collectively trust enough to take into confidence? Because that it had to be someone they all approved of went without saying. 

"What about your Mum, Fred?" Roger suggested, and Deaky nodded in agreement. "She's about as trustworthy as they come. She wouldn't harm a hair on Brian's head." 

Freddie shook his head. "No, she's very fond of him. The fact that he's an alien wouldn't change that, I'm sure. There's just the one problem, though - she doesn't keep secrets from my Dad. And good luck trying to convince my law-abiding father to shelter an extraterrestrial under his roof. Besides, Brian doesn't need a surrogate Mum to give him cuddles and tuck him in when he's sick, he needs a rocket scientist or at the very least, someone with connections in high places. And that's not my Mum, unfortunately." 

Roger and Deaky did see the point in that, and they all lapsed into silence as they mentally began compiling a list of grownups with some authority and standing in the village. 

It was a pretty short list, which might or might not be for the good. 

Law enforcement was still out of the question, of course. And once they had eliminated the mayor, the notary, the village doctor, the vicar ("Not exactly what I had in mind when I said 'connections in high places'," Freddie joked wryly), the head of school and most other contenders, there was really only one authority figure they all three felt was beyond reproach. Not a rocket scientist, unfortunately, because those were thin on the ground where they lived, but someone they were sure would at least listen and take them seriously. Even that might just be enough to get them out of this impasse, Freddie thought hopefully. 

Once the decision had been made, they all went to their separate homes for lunch and rejoined forces soon thereafter. They made for a subdued little group as they rode their bikes into the village, and Freddie was sure they were all wondering if they were doing the right thing. He certainly was. He struggled with feelings of guilt, too, because Brian trusted them so implicitly and he couldn't help but feel that by getting an adult involved they had failed him somehow. He could only pray that things would work out for the better and that one day, he would be able to explain to Brian that they'd had no other choice. 

(Brian had been told they were going to visit someone, but not who or why. Freddie wanted him to go in unprejudiced and make up his own mind about their chosen confidant, which he was more than capable of doing. If at any point during the visit he showed signs of being ill at ease, they'd abort the mission - that, too, they were all in agreement on.) 

"Guys, can we stop here real quick?" Deaky asked when they were about to pass the grocery store. "My Mum gave me some money to buy spices for dinner tonight. It'll only take a second." 

"Sure," Freddie said listlessly, and Roger replied with an equally despondent, "Whatever." But perhaps the fact that neither of them pointed out to Deaky that he might as well do his errands on the way back implied that they were all glad to put off the moment of truth a little longer. 

They parked their bikes in a messy cluster around a lamp post and crossed the street, stopping to peruse the newspaper stand out front. They'd started doing this recently, hoping to learn anything useful, but none of the local newspapers had reported any UFO sightings in the area. Not even the crop circle in Farmer Reid's corn warranted a mention. It really was as if Brian had just dropped from the sky unseen. 

Just then, the grocery shop door opened with a chime and a figure in uniform stepped out. 

"Oh, shit," Roger cursed under his breath. "It's Prick Prenter." 

Paul Prenter was a local police constable, and probably the main reason why they'd been firmly against getting law enforcement involved in Brian's case. Crime rates in their village were low, which meant that the local coppers were either bored stiff doing desk jobs or went around town looking for minute or perceived transgressions, berating kids who were just trying to play and have a good time. Prenter was by far the worst of the lot - although only a constable, he clearly nurtured dreams of one day climbing the ladder all the way up to chief inspector. He certainly already conducted himself like one. 

"Hello there, fellas," he said quasi jovially. "Why the long faces? Aren't we enjoying the summer holiday?" 

No one, not even Deaky, felt obliged to respond, so to save face, Prenter had to break the uncomfortable silence himself. "Are those your bikes over there?" 

"No," Roger deadpanned. He loathed Prenter even more than the others, having had his fair share of confrontations with the man. Roger was also the bravest and the least likely to give a shit about anything Prenter might do in retaliation. "Never seen them before. Must belong to a couple of other kids." 

"Well, if they're still there in ten minutes, I'm going to have to have them removed." Prenter shoved his hand into the paper bag he was carrying and produced a cream puff, taking a big bite that left powdered sugar in his moustache. A big dollop of custard landed on the ground in front of his feet, barely missing the tip of his polished shoe. The pastry seemed to have put him in a good mood, which was probably why he went surprisingly easy on them about the bikes. 

Freddie hoped that was the end of the encounter, but then Prenter's eye fell on Brian, probably the only one who wasn't watching the constable decimate his sweet snack with disgust but fascination. "Who's this, then? A new face in town?" 

Freddie stiffened. _Shit_ \- the last thing they needed was for Brian to land on Prenter's radar. "Just a visitor from out of town," he said before Deaky could start rattling off the story about a cousin from London. The fewer details they gave Prenter, the better. 

"Family of yours, Bulsara?" Prenter grinned. He knew very well that the Bulsaras had no relatives in England. Freddie practically felt Roger and Deaky seethe beside him and prayed they wouldn't respond to the taunt - it wasn't worth it. The constable licked the custard from his fingers slowly, still looking Brian over. "Can you talk, kid?" 

Brian nodded proudly. "Yes, Brian talk. Talk better every day, Roger say. Brian listen and learn words." 

Prenter raised an eyebrow, and Freddie held his breath - as, he was sure, did the others. When Prenter smelled a rat, he didn't rest until he had it by the tail. _Definitely not what they needed._

Thankfully, they were saved in that moment by Kenny, the son of the grocery shop owner who had spotted them from behind the counter and came out for a chat. He was a friendly guy with a red goatee, who didn't care for Prenter any more than they did, so Freddie wouldn't put it above him to have interrupted on purpose, and he sent him a grateful smile to let him know it was appreciated. 

"Thanks, Kenny," he murmured as they entered the shop and Prenter sauntered off, crumpling the empty paper bag into a ball and nonchalantly tossing it in the bin. "Owe you one." 

Kenny merely winked. He helped Deaky find the correct spices for his Mum's recipe and let them pick candy from a jar he kept under the counter, something he often did when his Dad wasn't around. As far as grownups went, Kenny was one of the good ones. 

"Bloody Prenter - that was a little too close for my liking," Roger said when they came outside, voicing what they were probably all thinking, and they looked at each other worriedly. 

"It's my fault," Deaky said unhappily. "This wouldn't have happened if we'd just kept going. Those dumb spices could've waited." 

"Don't worry about it, Deaks," Freddie said. If anything, this thing with Prenter had reminded him yet again why they needed an ally. "Let's just stick to the plan and get out of here." 

With a renewed sense of urgency, they grabbed their bikes and continued on, soon leaving the few shops their village boasted behind them and navigating the streets until they got to a residential area they were far less familiar with, slowing down to read the house numbers on both sides of the street and arguing about where they were supposed to go. When they reached the end of the street without finding it, they turned around and pedalled back even more slowly. 

Then they finally caught a lucky break. Freddie spotted a sunhatted figure sitting on hands and knees in one of the front gardens, tending to a flowerbed, and he stepped on the brakes to ask for directions. "Excuse me, sir?" 

It was only when the man looked up that he realised they'd found the right address and the man in the sunhat and gardening gloves was none other than their Year 5 teacher. "Why, hello Freddie, hello lads. This is quite the surprise. What brings you here on this fine day?" 

Freddie grimaced. "It's quite a long and complicated story, sir." 

"Oh dear." Surveying their grave faces, Jim Beach slowly got to his feet and pulled off his gloves. "Well, if that's the case, you better come inside and tell me all about it."


	13. xiii

"How about we go straight through?" Mr. Beach proposed, hanging up his sunhat and ruffling his hair as the boys followed him into the living room somewhat skittishly - they had never visited one of their teachers in their own home before, so they were stepping into very strange terrain. "We could sit outside - there should be some nice shade in the back garden by now." 

"Actually, sir," Freddie said, clearing his throat uneasily, "if it's not too much trouble, I think we'd prefer to talk somewhere more private." 

Mr. Beach was surprised by the request and the earnest manner in which it was made. He couldn't recall ever seeing Freddie Bulsara so deathly serious before. "There is no one else home. My wife and kids are out for the day, so we won't be disturbed." 

The boys didn't respond, staring at the floor. They looked so uncomfortable that, for the first time, Mr. Beach felt a stab of worry. This was not just shyness - clearly there was something quite serious weighing on them. "All right, let's go into my office to talk. This way." 

Meek like sheep, they followed his lead, unable to keep from peeking at the framed family pictures displayed in the house, including a wedding portrait and quite a few pictures of the Beach children, a girl and a boy not much older than them. They respected Mr. Beach, he was by far the best and most likeable teacher they'd ever had - he wasn't the funniest teacher in school, nor the coolest, but he cared deeply about his students and didn't stand for bullying, so students always felt heard and safe in his classroom - but coming face to face with his private life was, well, _weird_. Freddie felt his courage waning slightly and wondered, once again, if they'd made the right decision in coming here. The only thing driving him forward, really, was the thought of Prenter and the way he'd scrutinised Brian earlier. For reasons yet unclear, Brian had not only dropped into their lives but into a hostile world he wasn't designed for, one that could easily eat him alive when given the chance. Brian needed someone to look after his interests, an advocate, and Mr. Beach really was their best bet. 

Mr. Beach, meanwhile, opened a door and gestured inside. "Here we are. After you." As they filed past him, Mr. Beach caught Brian's eye and extended a hand in greeting. "You're not in my class. I never forget a face. Let me introduce myself - I'm Jim Beach, but your friends call me Miami. Never to my face, of course." He laughed warmly, and they all blushed like fiends. They hadn't known Mr. Beach knew about his nickname. At their school, a nickname was considered almost a badge of honour - all the popular teachers had one - so it hadn't been given with malicious intent. 

"Tell him your name, mate," Roger mumbled, as a prompt to Brian. "It's polite." 

"Brian," Brian chirped obediently, taking the proffered hand and smiling up at the teacher. 

"A pleasure to meet you, Brian. Please, have a seat." Mr. Beach shut the door and pulled his chair from behind his desk to place in their midst, so that instead of facing them imperiously from across the barrier of his desk, he could look them all in the eye from an equal position. It was a small touch that said a lot, and they all breathed a little easier. 

Looking around the little circle of anxious faces, Mr. Beach smiled and spread his hands invitingly. "Well, who wants to go first and tell me what can I do for you boys? I must say, you've made me quite curious." 

Freddie, Roger and Deaky looked at one another uncertainly. They hadn't exactly planned this part of the proceedings ahead of time, but Freddie felt it would probably fall to him to do the majority of the talking, although Roger and Deaky might provide backup as required. "Well, uh, first of all, sorry for barging in on you like this unannounced, sir." 

"That's not a problem at all. It was getting a bit hot out there anyway, and like I said, I'm home alone today and glad for some distraction. Gardening isn't my favourite pastime, to be honest. But how neglectful of me - I should probably offer you something cold to drink. I'm sorry, my wife is a better host than I." He began to get up. 

"No, thank you, we're okay," Freddie said quickly, and the other two nodded their assent. If Mr. Beach got up now to fetch lemonade for them all, they might lose momentum and the nerve required to see this through. "The reason we're here is, well... we need help, sir." 

"Yes, I gathered as much. Well, if it's within my power to help, in any way at all, I will certainly be happy to try." Mr. Beach nodded encouragingly, and Freddie glanced at his friends to read their faces. 

_Still good? Still good._

"Before we tell you," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly because dictating rules to a teacher didn't feel right - his parents had raised him to respect all teachers and Mr. Beach was someone he particularly liked and admired -, "we need you to promise us not to tell anyone else, including the police." 

" _Especially_ not the police," Roger jumped in. 

Mr. Beach took his time surveying all of their faces before responding. In his years as a teacher, he'd often been approached by students and taken into their confidence about problems great and small, so this in itself wasn't unfamiliar ground for him. He was intrigued, however, as to what he was about to hear from these three. As far as he knew, they came from stable homes and did well academically. They certainly weren't at the top of the school hierarchy, but they were usually left alone by the bullies because they'd already shown they could give as good as they got when provoked. He didn't know them to be rule breakers, either - they were loyal, good-hearted kids, so they had to have good reasons to ask him this. "Before I answer that, let me ask you one thing," he said. "Suppose I make that promise - will I be breaking the law by keeping your secret?" 

"No," Freddie said, after a moment's thought, "not exactly." 

"I don't think there's any laws about this in the strict sense, sir," Roger said with a shrug. "It's... pretty much unprecedented, I'd say." Deaky only nodded in solemn agreement. 

With mounting wonder and curiosity, Mr. Beach looked at his three students, who met his gaze squarely and without smiles. On pure instinct, he suspected this all related to the quiet fourth boy in one way or another. As to how, he couldn't begin to guess, but that it was deeply important to them was more than obvious. The tension was thick on their faces, evident in the way they sat there and weighed their words. He decided to take a chance. 

"Very well. I won't tell another living soul. You have my promise." He caught Freddie giving him a hard stare and nodded to emphasise his words but didn't prod further. He saw them exchange another look and was touched by how close to each other they were. It wasn't new to him - he had known they were an inseparable unit just from observing them at school - but it never failed to amaze him how strong the bonds of those boyhood friendships could be, even if some of them inevitably ended up falling apart over time. He had studied law for a few years before realising that teaching was his true vocation, and while he hadn't regretted the switch for a second, it was good to be reminded occasionally of what had made him want to work with children in the first place. 

His years at the front of the classroom, however, had done very little to prepare him for what he was about to hear next. 

"Brian," Freddie finally said slowly, turning to the skinny boy sitting beside him, "would you please tell Mr. Beach, in your own words, where you come from and what you've been learning these past few days?" 

"From sky," Brian said, in his clear, soft voice. "Big, big sky, with moon and stars. Brian find Roger, Deaky, Freddie. Brian learn about Earth. Music, animals, plants, words. Brian learn talk and sleep, like normal boy. Eat normal things, good things, like ice cream. Play guitar like Deaky. Read books. Not read words, but see pictures. Freddie, Roger, Deaky help Brian. Like friends. Yes?" 

Freddie stared at him in surprise. It was probably the longest uninterrupted sequence of words Brian had produced thus far, which in itself was noteworthy, but it was also the first time he had referred to them as his friends. Freddie hadn't even known that word was part of his vocabulary already. 

"Yeah - yeah, like friends," he stammered, "because we are your friends. Of course we are. Right?" Roger and Deaky nodded sheepishly, and Brian positively beamed. It was an unexpected little moment, one that wasn't lost on Mr. Beach. When it came to 'his' kids, very little escaped his attention. 

He definitely had questions, though. 

"Let me make sure I understand this right," he said slowly. "Your friend Brian, am I supposed to conclude he's some sort of..." 

"Alien," Roger filled in helpfully. "Yes, sir. Because that's what he is." 

"You don't believe us," Deaky said when he saw Mr. Beach's stunned expression, and their spirits sank. "You think we're pulling a prank, right? You think we're making this up." 

"Hold on, John, hold on," Mr. Beach said, raising a hand. "It's not that I don't believe you, just give me a moment to let this sink in. It's not every day that students show up at my house with a tale like this, you'll understand." 

"It's not a tale, it's the truth," Roger said fiercely, "boy scout's honour." Mr. Beach leaned back heavily in his chair, looking at all their faces. His gaze landed on Brian last. On the surface, he looked like a pretty normal kid, albeit with an extraordinary head of hair. Once you observed him for a little while, however, something did seem... _different_. But different enough to be what the other three were suggesting? They certainly seemed to believe it themselves - that much was clear. 

Jim Beach liked to think he possessed the gift of fair judgment and an open mind. It was a big part of what made him popular among the student body, part of why students felt they could drop by his office anytime for advice, a cry, or sometimes just a chat. He listened, without prejudice, and tried to hear all sides of a conflict or situation before taking action. Children were straightforward and honest - often more so than adults, in his experience - and he liked that about them. And these three had never given him any reason to doubt their sincerity. 

"All right," he said slowly, "I think I need to know more, so why don't you boys tell me everything you feel comfortable telling, from the beginning. I'm listening."


	14. xiv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to make a playlist for this story, so check it out if you want. It's become a rather eclectic mix of songs featured in the story, songs with a 'summery' feel and other things that express a mood. Here is the link: https://open.spotify.com/user/a4eujhhen9zz1rdfhruta92hr/playlist/1dUUA1CdNRmgvJDLAx5Gve?si=FA5CNhBhQLOgA49p44HG9Q
> 
> Do you have any songs that remind you of this story or vice versa? Please tell me! I will definitely give them a listen and maybe add them!

It took Freddie, aided occasionally by Roger and Deaky, the better part of an hour to recount everything that had transpired since Brian first turned up almost a week ago in a more or less cohesive manner. Not only was there a lot to tell, he was also more forthcoming than he had originally planned to be, because the more he talked, the more detail he remembered. Meanwhile Mr. Beach was true to his word - listening without interrupting, occasionally looking at Brian, who grew bored and fidgety after a while and went exploring around the room, soon drawn to Mr. Beach's vast collection of books. 

"Brian," Freddie said, interrupting his story when Brian reached for a thick volume entitled _The Impressionists_ and pulled it from the shelf, "you shouldn't touch any of Mr. Beach's belongings before asking permission." 

With the book in his hands, Brian turned around to face Mr. Beach guiltily. "Sorry," he said in a small voice, clearly realising that he'd inadvertently broken an important rule of human interaction. 

"That's okay," Mr. Beach nodded. "I don't mind." 

"Brian can?" 

"Certainly, you can. You'll enjoy that, I think - it's got excellent reproductions inside. Breathtaking colours." 

"He likes those," Deaky mused as Brian knelt down and put the book on the floor in front of him. "That should keep him well entertained for a while." 

"We've been trying to teach him good manners," Roger explained to their host. "He doesn't mean to be rude, sir, but he is very curious about things and gets bored pretty easily." 

"You don't have to apologise on his behalf, Roger. I'm thrilled to meet a young lad who appreciates the impressionists as much as I do." Mr. Beach smiled as Brian gaped at a full-page reproduction of Van Gogh's _Sunflowers_ , a brilliant explosion of warm yellow against a blue background. "Stunning that, isn't it? You should see the original - it's even more beautiful in person." 

Freddie's heart made a little jump at these words. He'd suddenly remembered something very exciting - their class was set to take a school trip to London in the fall and visit the National Gallery as part of the itinerary. If only Brian could join them! What would he make of the big city and all its attractions? The people, the shops, the architecture? Would he stand entranced by the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, places Freddie too had yet to see with his own eyes? The world held so much beauty still to be discovered by both of them. A wistful sigh escaped him. 

"A question, if I may," Mr. Beach unknowingly interrupted Freddie's thoughts. "The name Brian, how did that come about? I'm assuming that's not his actual name." 

Roger snickered. "Yeah, that's a funny story. Tell him, Deaks." 

"We had to come up with a name on the spot," Deaky said, blushing at the memory. "My brain kinda froze and I just blurted the first name I could think of... me dog's name. And it stuck, I guess. Brian's certainly taken to it." 

"I think it's possible he didn't have a name before," Freddie said. It was a feeling that had only gotten stronger over time. "We've asked him about it, but it's like he has no idea what we're talking about. He is so intelligent that it's scary, but some things seem to be completely beyond his comprehension." 

"I can certainly believe he's a clever chap," Mr. Beach said thoughtfully. "If, like you said, he didn't speak a word of English a week ago, he's certainly made impressive strides in a very short time." 

"Everything we've told you is true," Roger said emphatically. From thinking Brian might be mentally challenged, he'd made a complete transition into being Brian's most passionate defender. That was Roger - he might be direct and quick to temper, but he was also the most loyal friend one could wish for. "Try it, sir. Teach him something new and see for yourself. You'll be amazed at what he can do." 

"Oh, that's... really not necessary," Mr. Beach said, but Roger's suggestion garnered immediate support from the two other boys. Even if they couldn't back up their theories about Brian's background with any conclusive proof, they could at the very least give a demonstration of his exceptional learning abilities. 

Mr. Beach, however, felt conflicted. Brian was a boy, not some circus animal, and he wasn't comfortable with the idea of making him perform like one, however good the intentions. On the other hand, everything he'd seen and heard so far had definitely fanned the embers of curiosity - he would be lying if he claimed otherwise. 

"Do you own an instrument?" Deaky suggested helpfully. "A guitar maybe?" 

"My wife plays the piano," Mr. Beach replied, "but I'm really not sure-" 

"It's okay, sir," Freddie said, seemingly sensing the reason for his reluctance, "we can just ask him, and he'll decide if he wants to do it. If he doesn't, he'll say so." He turned to Brian, who was sitting on the floor on elbows and knees, hair hiding most of his face as he pored over the great masterpieces of impressionism. "Brian? Do you want to put the book away for a minute and make a little music instead?" 

Brian nodded, face brightening. "Guitar?" 

"No, piano this time. Okay?" 

"Okay," Brian easily agreed, and he got to his feet and put the book back in its place on the shelf. 

They went into the living room and gathered around the instrument, a black Steinway overlooking the back garden. Brian was instantly fascinated with the shiny black and white keys, reaching out to touch them but pulling his hand back at last moment and looking at Mr. Beach. "Brian can?" 

Mr. Beach smiled and nodded. "Of course." 

Brian experimentally pressed a single key and cocked his head, listening to the pleasant tone it produced. Next, he played a little sequence of notes and listened to that too. Then he got bold, spreading his fingers and hitting five, six adjoining keys at the same time, which produced a harsh dissonant that made him physically cringe. His horrified expression was so comical that it made them all laugh, and Roger slapped him on the back. "Not too bad for a first attempt, mate. Still better than anything I have ever produced on the piano, for sure." 

"Sir," Freddie said to Mr. Beach, "could you play something for us? Anything you want?" 

"Me?" Mr. Beach wasn't quite prepared for _that_. "My wife is the musician in this house - the only piece I know how to play halfway decently is _Für Elise_." 

" _Für_... what?" Roger squawked, and Freddie bumped him. 

"It's Beethoven, Rog." And to Mr. Beach he said, "We're all ears, sir." 

Still unsure as to the purpose of it all, but amused by these kids' tenacity, Mr. Beach got behind the clavier and began to play. He'd had piano lessons as a young lad and even played in a struggling college band for a short year, but as he'd told the boys, he was no musician of any great skill. Still, he was amazed as to what muscle memory did, and after a rusty few first notes he hit his stride, playing the piece with a fair amount of confidence and fluency. He thought he heard Freddie softly humming along, but the other boys listened in silence, Brian attentively watching his fingers glide across the keys. 

When he finished, his little audience applauded, and he grinned, having to admit to himself that he'd enjoyed that rather more than expected. Perhaps he should take it up again. "Well, that wasn't too bad, considering it's been years since I gave it a go." 

"Very good, sir," Roger said generously. "You sold yourself short." 

"So what happens now? Should I play it again, but slower this time?" 

"Not necessary, sir," Freddie replied. "Let Brian have a go." 

"As you wish." Mr. Beach got up and smiled at Brian, gesturing at the vacated stool. "She's all yours." 

He didn't know what he was expecting - in spite of the boys' extraordinary story, he had a somewhat more pragmatic view of the world and the existence of extraterrestrial life was not something he'd ever dedicated a more than fleeting thought to - but it certainly wasn't to see Brian get behind the piano, lift both hands to the clavier and tentatively begin to play a more than adequate rendition of _Für Elise_. 

And yet that was exactly what happened. 

No, it wasn't the most complex classical piece ever composed, but that didn't make it any less staggering what Brian was doing - conquering the instrument that had clearly been alien to him just a few short minutes ago. And yes, he made mistakes, but he heard every one and corrected them, hitting different keys until he got the right note and playing the sequence over until he liked the sound. Very quickly, his playing of the piece's main theme approached perfection, both technically and rhythmically. Mr. Beach found himself unexpectedly moved, almost to tears, by the sight of that peculiar boy and the soft, tender melody he was coaxing from the instrument. 

Jim Beach had taught quite a few gifted students over the years, and some of them had baffled him with their precociousness and talent. But he had to be fair - this performance right here defied every human feat he'd ever seen accomplished right in front of him. It was one thing to master the basics of the English language in less than a week - it was a scientific fact that children could learn any number of languages if they were taught young enough - but learning how to play one of the world's best-known pieces of classical music from being shown just once, and with such feeling too? Brian must be some sort of child prodigy at the very least. Or, alternatively- 

"My God," he murmured, acutely aware of the other boys looking at him triumphantly as if to say, _didn't we tell you?_

They _had_ told him, repeatedly and emphatically. And yet, despite having promised himself to reserve judgment until the last, he realised he hadn't truly believed them until this very moment.


	15. xv

The demonstration over, they all went back into Mr. Beach's office - with drinks this time - and soon Brian was fully immersed in the impressionists once again, only this time he could be heard softly humming  _Für Elise_ to himself as he flipped the glossy pages, studying the reproductions with their abundance of colours at his leisure. As long as his knowledge-starved brain was being stimulated or challenged in some way, he truly was the most content, easygoing kid. Only when he got bored could he sometimes act up a little, but those times were few and far between. 

(It was also the first time Freddie had heard him hum, using his voice as an instrument, and he wondered what his proper singing voice would sound like, a thought immediately dampened by the realisation that he may never get to find out.) 

Meanwhile, the other boys sipped their orange juice - not on par with Jer Bulsara's lemonade, of course, but cold from the fridge and good all the same - and Jim Beach took a moment to sort his thoughts before breaking the silence, painfully aware of the weighty expectations placed on him by these kids. The only one not waiting for his next words with bated breath was the remarkable little boy on the floor, entirely too preoccupied with the likes of Monet and Renoir. 

"Right, lads," he began, choosing his words with great care, "first of all, I do understand now why you came to me, and let me just say that I think you did absolutely the right thing in deciding to ask for help. Frankly, I am amazed that you managed to keep this a secret for as long as you have, and I think the fact that Brian seems as happy and healthy and well-adjusted as he does is absolutely a credit to you three. I can see that he is very attached to you and vice versa, so you have clearly risen to the challenge and under extraordinary circumstances at that. I'm so, so proud of you for that." Delighted grins bloomed on their faces at this praise, and he waited a moment, knowing that he had a somewhat less pleasant message to deliver next. "I am also touched that you thought of me in your hour of need, and I will try to be worthy of your trust. However, I have to admit I find myself quite at a loss as to what must be done. This situation is so unique - like you said, Roger - that I doubt anyone could confidently tell you what to do." 

"But you believe us," Deaky said. "You don't think we're lying, or completely off our rockers. You believe that Brian is an alien. Right?" 

"I believe he's a very special boy," Mr. Beach said thoughtfully, looking at Brian, "certainly unlike any I have ever met before, and I've met loads. I must admit I have never really asked myself whether there could be intelligent life out there, but I don't feel strongly one way or the other, so... while I am no expert on the matter, why shouldn't it be possible?" 

Freddie could have sworn they all simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief at that. They had been far from sure Mr. Beach would be open to what they'd come to tell him, so with these words, it seemed half the battle was already won. At the same time, it was disheartening that Mr. Beach didn't immediately seem to have a solution at hand either. And if that was the case, then they really were in dire straits. So after that little moment of triumph, Freddie quickly felt his spirits sinking again, and all of a sudden all his pent-up frustration came pouring out of him as a result. 

"We're trying to help him get home, sir. That's all we want. But we've run out of ideas and now we're running out of time on top of that - my Dad comes home in two days, and he's not like my Mum. He wouldn't want a strange kid in the house, let alone an alien. He wouldn't listen, like you. He'd call the authorities, and they'd take Brian away, just like that. And then what? He has nothing, sir. On paper he doesn't exist. That would make some people in high places very nervous, I'm sure. And once they find out what he is... there's no telling what will happen to him. He'd be in so much danger." Freddie was getting choked up as he spoke, but he didn't care - this was too important. Roger slung his arm around his shoulders in support, and Deaky stared at the floor, biting his lip. Brian, too, sensed that something was wrong, looking up from his book with a worried expression. "Please, sir. Please help us protect him from all that. It's not fair that Brian should be punished for being who he is." 

Deeply moved by this tearful and heartfelt plea, Mr. Beach got up and knelt in front of him, placing his hands on his shoulders. "Freddie, dear boy, listen to me. You've been holding this in for a while, haven't you? I can see that, and I can see that you care for your friend." Freddie could only nod. "You're right, it isn't fair. So I am going to try and help you, help Brian. I don't know yet what and how much I can do, but I promised I would try and I will. But you have to give me a little time to figure something out. Okay?" 

Freddie nodded again, wiping at his eyes and runny nose. "And you won't call the police?" 

"You have my word." 

"Scout's honour?" Roger insisted. 

Mr. Beach smiled and held up three fingers. "Scout's honour. I may have to make a few calls to various people, but I will be very careful with what I say. No one will suspect a thing." 

"Is that absolutely necessary?" Deaky asked doubtfully. This was what they'd been afraid of - that once they told an outsider, their secret would become uncontainable. 

"You came to me because you trust me, didn't you?" They nodded hesitantly, and Mr. Beach smiled. "Then try to trust me now. I will be very discreet, I promise. I don't want to see Brian come to harm any more than you do. I'm afraid getting him on a rocket ship in the next 48 hours will prove to be a tall order..." It was a gentle joke to lighten the mood, and they duly cracked little smiles. "So I think the focus for now should be on finding Brian a safe place to stay. And we'll take things from there. Agreed?" 

"Yeah," Freddie said. He was glad he was no longer bawling like a baby, and he felt buoyed by Mr. Beach's promise to help. In a way, just handing over the reins felt like a relief in itself. "Somewhere close by would be best. So we- so we could visit often. He'd miss us and be lonely otherwise." 

Mr. Beach smiled gently. "Oh, I'm sure he would. I can't make any promises, but I'll see what I can do. I'd hate to break up the band." 

"Couldn't... couldn't he stay with you, sir?" piped up Deaky softly, the words a barely audible whisper. Clearly he'd had to conquer something inside to even ask. But he had, and Freddie kind of loved him for it. Why hadn't he thought of something so obvious? 

"I've thought of that, John, and if it comes to that, of course he'd be more than welcome," Mr. Beach said. "But it'd be a temporary solution, and I don't think Brian should be bounced from house to house. All that change and uncertainty is not good for a young boy, and God knows what he's been through already. He needs stability, like all children do. Do you think he can stay at your house for another night or two, Freddie?" 

Freddie nodded. "Yes, sir. My Mum wouldn't put him out on the street. She'll be as sad to see him go as I am, probably." 

"Your mother is a kind woman. It's a shame Brian can't stay where he is, as I'm sure he's perfectly happy there." He gently chucked Freddie's chin with his knuckles. "Chin up, lad. It's going to be okay." 

"Thank you," Freddie said softly as Mr. Beach got to his feet - knees cracking audibly, reminding him he wasn't that young a man anymore - and went to his desk. "For believing us, helping us." 

"No need to thank me, Freddie. You boys have certainly made my day interesting, and I've never turned away a kid in need. I don't intend to start now." He scribbled something down in a notepad and tore off the piece of paper, handing it over. "I'm giving you my number. If there is anything, don't hesitate to call. Day or night, if necessary." 

"What do you think, though, sir?" Roger asked curiously. "What is it that makes Brian so smart? Could he have a photographic memory or something?" It was a theory of his, one he was eager to have validated by someone with some expertise on the matter. 

"I don't know, Roger." Mr. Beach glanced over at Brian, who'd gone back to reading once he was reassured that Freddie was okay. "It could be that, or something else. He does seem capable of memorising complex sequences at a glance, which is a substantial gift if true. I'd be very curious as to what else he could accomplish, given the opportunity, but let's not get ahead of ourselves here. We've got more pressing things to worry about, don't we?" 

They agreed to meet again at Mr. Beach's house the next day. As they said goodbye at the door, they all shook his hand, Brian included. "Bye, Miami," he twittered, with an innocent face that would have given Deaky a run for his money. Only the mischievous glint in his eye betrayed he knew very well that he'd used the wrong name - the other boys had addressed their teacher appropriately throughout the visit. It was yet more proof that he understood humour and was capable of cracking cheeky jokes himself. 

Mr. Beach laughed, surprised and delighted by this discovery. "Quite the rascal, eh? Not unlike your friends." He winked at the boys and patted Brian's shoulder. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Brian. Thank you for playing the piano so beautifully. You would've made my wife cry, for sure. Actually... I came pretty close myself." 

They picked up their bikes and waved before pedalling off down the street, Brian sitting safely behind Roger with an arm slung around his waist. It had gotten quite late, gnawing hunger calling them home, and they made for a quiet little troupe with only the sound of their wheels on the cobbled streets echoing off of the houses on either side, red brick glowing orange in the light of the late afternoon sun. 

"Miami good," Brian said after a moment, almost as if to himself, and Freddie smiled. It seemed as good an endorsement as any.


	16. xvi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, folks - prepare yourselves for a lil' curveball!
> 
> Some of you have been wondering about Brian's history. Well, the beginning of this chapter is a bit of a change in that it's written from Brian's perspective - I hope you all like it even though it will probably raise more questions than answer any, but I'd love to hear your thoughts after reading this. It's probably all very opaque unless you're living inside my head, lol. The next chapter should bring a little more clarity.

_That night, it came.  
_

_It was strong enough to wake him from sleep. Generally, not much was needed to do that, as he was still inexperienced at the sleeping thing and even the smallest, most innocuous noises could poke holes in the filmy veil of unconsciousness, but this was different. Like a disturbance in the air, an invisible cord suddenly snapping taut and pulling at him. And there it was, reverberating through his entire being - a siren call inaudible to anyone but him, letting him know They had come back for him.  
_

_It was unusual - yet, in a way, not entirely unexpected. He was of some worth to Them, after all - enough apparently to warrant another Mission despite the risk involved.  
_

_He'd have just the one chance, though. That much he knew instinctively. It was this night or never again. They wouldn't be back a second time. He wasn't *that* valuable.  
_

_His body had gone tense, his senses snapped into clear focus, but it wasn't because he was scared. There was no reason to be. He knew They couldn't see him, here in his cot, wouldn't come and find him and drag him off against his will. No - he'd have to go to Them. His choice. If he stuck it out until dawn, They would eventually give up and leave.  
_

_Not go, he told himself. Close eyes. Cover ears. Sleep. When that didn't work, he pulled the sheet over his head and wound up the music box he kept under his pillow in the hope that its soothing melody would ground him. Drown out the call from afar and give him something else to focus on. It helped only marginally, and not for very long.  
_

_Meanwhile, the disembodied voice sang its song. It was sweet, caring, full of promise. Both familiar and not so. The voice of a woman he felt he should know but whose smile he couldn't picture no matter how hard he tried. A voice that woke up something deep inside him. Suddenly, his chest felt too small for his heart, its beat a frantic rhythm.  
_

_Was she real? Or was it a trick? If so, it was effective, as the voice pulled him out of his bed and to the window, overcome by a yearning he hadn't felt this strongly before.  
_

_Was she the one who had inhabited his thoughts, even since before he came here? Yet her face always remained out of focus, floating beyond his reach, and he had not known who she was until Freddie taught him how such a woman would be called in his language. How much love, warmth and protection she represented, and how important it was to have one's own.  
_

_He looked over his shoulder, back into the room. Unlike him, Freddie was very good at the sleeping thing. Rarely woke. Should he wake him now? He hesitated, began to turn around, but the voice was insistent, reminding him there wasn't much time.  
_

_The bedroom window was always left ajar at night. For fresh air, Freddie said. Freddie knew a lot about a great many things. But not about him, not about the voice and why it was so irresistible to him. Why he had to follow it. Follow it and find out who she was, the woman whose face he longed to know.  
_

_He looked up at the sky. Even the friendly moon seemed to be beckoning. Hurry, she seemed to say. The night will not be long.  
_

_Through the crack in the window, he felt the summer night's gentle breeze reach in and touch his face, brushing one of his curls back from his forehead like he imagined the woman's hand might do.  
_

_Very slowly, not making a sound, he opened the window._

\--

Freddie woke up in a cold sweat, adrenaline rushing through his veins from the terrifying dream he'd just had, although it took a few moments of staring into the darkness in complete disorientation to realise that it had been a dream at all.

He'd dreamt that Prenter and his chums had come and cordoned off the house with security tape, like a crime scene. And then a small army of grave-faced scientists in white biohazard suits had descended on their house and put Brian in a cage, a glass box really with only a few air holes at the top. Brian hadn't even resisted or put up a fight, just curled up into a defeated little ball in a corner of his cage. Freddie, on the other hand, had revolted at the injustice of it all, trying to break open the cage and physically fighting every cop or scientist who tried to prevent him, screaming at them to listen and let Brian out, but it was all no use. In the end, he'd crouched down by the cage and tried to reassure Brian, who was peering out from behind his curls like a terrified little creature, but the glass was too thick - they couldn't hear each other or communicate. It was at that moment that Freddie jolted into consciousness, his relief at waking up overshadowed by the memory of Brian in his lonely isolation, the forlorn expression on his face now an image etched into Freddie's mind.

He waited for his heartbeat to normalise and then leaned up to look into Brian's cot. He'd developed this habit of looking for Brian regularly, still haunted by the memory of what had happened that first day in town, when he'd lost sight of him for a moment and any number of bad things could have happened in a split second of absentmindedness. He felt responsible for the lad, more so even than he'd ever felt about his little sister. Kash had just always had this air about her of not needing anyone's protection.

The cot was empty, the summer sheet kicked to the side. Freddie blinked, looked again, but his eyes hadn't betrayed him the first time. No Brian in bed. His gaze flicked around the dark room. No Brian at the desk. And no Brian at the window.

He did a double take on the window. It was wide open, when he was sure it had been at a crack at bedtime, the way it always was. The curtain was half open, barely moving in the weak, warm breeze of a July night. Freddie stared at it, his sleep-fogged brain struggling to catch up.

"Brian?" he said softly into the room, and listened. The house was completely quiet. No movement on the landing outside his room, none in the bathroom either that he could hear. The eerie quiet, along with the lingering terror of his dream, squeezed his throat shut with sudden fear. "Brian. Stop hiding, please. This isn't funny."

And then he noticed another thing that wasn't the way it was supposed to be. A single beam of light entering the room through the parted curtain fell on the chair by the desk, where normally Brian's clothes would be, but they were gone. Not the borrowed ones, no, his own clothes - the ones he'd shown up in almost a week ago. Freddie's Mum had washed them so they were brilliantly white once again, but Brian had shown a clear preference for Freddie's shorts and T-shirts, so those were what he had worn all week. And now the white outfit was gone, and so was Brian.

Suddenly wide awake, Freddie stumbled out of bed and to the window, leaning out as far as he dared. "Brian," he whispered, afraid to raise his voice and wake up his Mum, who slept in the next room. He peered up and down the street - with those white clothes on, Brian should at least be easily visible - before taking a bracing breath and looking down. It wasn't very high, but still enough of a drop to break a limb or worse if you had a rough landing.

Thankfully, though, there was no sign of a wounded and bleeding little boy to be seen anywhere. Next to Freddie's window, however, running down the front of the house, was a drain pipe that might just support the weight of a skinny boy shimmying down its length.

Freddie didn't think but sprang into action, driven by a sense of purpose that left no room for second thoughts. Very quickly, he began to get dressed, a process greatly hampered by the fact that it was dark and he was shaking like a leaf. As he shoved his feet into his sneakers and broke one of the laces, his thoughts were going a hundred miles an hour. Somehow - almost as if he'd subconsciously been expecting this to happen - he knew instinctively where Brian had gone. What he wasn't sure about was why, but for now, that didn't matter too much. All he knew was that he had to go after him and make sure he was all right. He also tried not to dwell on how Brian had snuck off in the middle of the night without telling him, because it stung more than a little, and that wasn't helpful either.

Once he was dressed, he flicked on the desk lamp and penned a quick note to his Mum, promising her he'd be back as soon as possible and imploring her not to call the police if she found the note before then. It was a scary notion, but if he woke her up right now and told her Brian was missing, she would _definitely_ make that dreaded call, and then everything they'd been trying to do this week would have been for naught. No, he had to do this alone.

_Or did he?_

Frantically rummaging through his pockets, he dug up the little piece of paper Miami had given him that afternoon and almost dropped it as he folded it open with clumsy fingers. _Day or night_ , his teacher had said, and it hadn't felt like a hollow promise.

He could do it. But if he did, if he snuck downstairs and picked up the phone and made that call, what would happen? In the best possible scenario, Miami would agree to go look for Brian and tell Freddie to _stay put_. Maybe he'd even tell him to go wake his mother up and put her on the phone. Miami might be their ally against the authorities, but when put on the spot, adults - _parents_ \- always banded together against the kids. Either way, Freddie would be forced to stay at home and passively wait for news.

Yeah - that wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to let the grownups sideline him while his friend was out there somewhere and might need his help. He tucked the phone number back into his pocket and put the note to his Mum on his pillow, sending up a little prayer that she'd never have to find it. He stopped to collect his thoughts for a moment and grabbed a flashlight from the toy chest at the foot of his bed, testing it for working batteries and shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Then, with one last look over his shoulder, he climbed onto the windowsill and began his descent down the drain pipe.


	17. xvii

It would be difficult for anyone to look more startled than Jim Beach did at seeing Freddie on his front step that night. He had come to the door in a robe and bed slippers, his wife worriedly peeking out from two paces behind him, also in a robe and with curlers in her hair.

"Freddie? What in the world-"

"I'm sorry, sir," Freddie interrupted, clutching his sides and gasping for air. He was out of breath from racing his bicycle across town - he had given everything to get here as fast as he could and thrown the bike on the Beaches' lawn, the front tyre still spinning by the time his teacher answered the door. "I didn't know what else to do. I need your help. It's about..." He hesitated and glanced into the hallway, lowering his voice. "It's about Brian."

"Brian?" Mr. Beach ran his fingers through his hair. It was uncharacteristically messy, sticking up straight from his scalp in places. Freddie waited impatiently for his teacher to wake up properly and put two and two together, using the moment to catch his breath. Finally, the penny dropped. "Oh. What happened?"

"I'll explain in the car," Freddie replied, raising his eyebrows pointedly and praying Miami would get the message. He couldn't afford to waste time beating around the bush and respecting decorum. "Please, sir, it's urgent."

"Car. Right." Still looking mostly confused, with concern following not far behind, Miami shrugged off his robe and put his coat on over his pyjamas. He stuck his bare feet into a pair of shoes that happened to be lying around and patted his pockets for his car keys.

"Jim?" Mrs. Beach asked hesitantly, at which Miami turned to face her.

"Student in trouble," he murmured, grasping her hand reassuringly and leaning in to kiss her cheek. Even as Freddie lowered his eyes in embarrassment, he noted with relief that Mr. Beach appeared to have kept his word - not even his wife knew who Brian was. "I've got this, don't worry. Go back to bed, love. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She looked at Freddie and then at her husband, clearly none too thrilled with the fact that he was taking off with very little explanation, but the urgency of the situation wasn't lost on her and she nodded without asking further questions. Maybe students ringing the doorbell in the dead of night was a more common occurrence than Freddie would have thought. No doubt Mr. Beach would have some explaining to do when he came home, but that was a concern for later.

"Nice car, sir," Freddie said as Mr. Beach unlocked the silver Austin A40 Farina parked out front and they slid into their respective seats.

"Seatbelt," Mr. Beach prompted, turning the key in the ignition and making the engine jump to life. "You better not be insulting my car, Bulsara. She hasn't let me down yet. Now kindly tell me where we're going and why."

Freddie supposed it would be pushing his luck to ask Mr. Beach to drive to Roger's and Deaky's houses first. Snatching students from their homes in the middle of the night was not something he was likely to agree to. It would take too much time anyway - Brian's safety was paramount.

"To the cornfield. Reid's property. I'll give directions to the exact place."

He explained to Mr. Beach what had happened as the car crept through the narrow streets way too slowly for his liking, including his all too prophetic dream as well. It was almost as if he had subconsciously felt that Brian was in trouble.

"You should have called me, Freddie," Mr. Beach said. "I would've taken care of it. I don't think you understand how much trouble I could get myself into by not taking you straight home but driving out to some godforsaken place on a hunch."

"With all due respect, sir, it's not a hunch." Freddie turned in his seat to meet Mr. Beach's gaze squarely. "And I do understand and appreciate the risk you're taking, but I couldn't bloody well sit at home and wait helplessly like a little child."

"You _are_ a child."

"I don't care," Freddie said stubbornly. "You need me, sir. You don't know Brian the way I do. You don't know how he thinks."

Mr. Beach didn't respond. He didn't want Freddie to know, but he was deeply worried about Brian. They were leaving the last houses of the village behind them now and he lowered his foot onto the gas just a notch, watching the needle of the speedometer nudge the speed limit. "All right, how are you so sure he is where you think he is? You told me he didn't like that place in broad daylight - why would he have gone back in the middle of the night? With not a street lamp for miles, it must be pitch black out there."

"I can't explain it, sir," Freddie said truthfully. He was jumpy, his knee bouncing up and down as he peered into the dark hoping to see a glimpse of white. "I just know it, here." Patting the left side of his chest with his fingers, he could feel Mr. Beach looking at him from the side but didn't offer any further explanation. He had none. It was like he'd said - he just _knew_. And he also knew that the reason for Brian taking off like that without a word couldn't be anything good.

"It'll be okay," he murmured, to reassure himself more than anything. "Brian's got good orientation, he's got excellent eyesight. He'll be okay."

Travelling by car, it didn't take more than a few minutes to reach the old dirt road where this whole adventure had begun a week ago - it would have taken Brian longer to get here on foot, but there was no way of knowing for how long he'd been gone. The place looked eerily different without daylight, and the rows of corn on either side of the road, towering over the car as it slowly wound its way through, looked foreboding, almost unwelcoming. But Freddie knew he couldn't allow himself to be afraid, not when he was safely in the car with a grownup and Brian might be out there all alone.

"Stop the car," he said suddenly, and barely had Mr. Beach complied or Freddie opened the door and got out, switching on his flashlight and pointing it at the tree he'd recognised as the one that marked the spot where Roger and Deaky first saw Brian. There was no Brian to be seen, however.

Meanwhile, Mr. Beach had also got out of the car, but left the lights on and the engine running. He looked up and down the road - or where the road should be. The section lit by the headlights of the car was really all that was visible. "Stay here, Freddie," he said warningly. He sounded uncharacteristically tense - surely he was sparing a moment to wonder why in God's name he had agreed to come out here at this hour, with a student no less, for no other reason than said student's insistence.

Freddie shone his flashlight into the ditch where they'd left their bikes the other day, then at the corn in front of him. It looked undisturbed, but, remembering the way Brian had moved through the crop with deer-like grace, he knew that meant nothing. Brian could have entered the field from any point. "Brian!" The call, shouted at the top of his lungs, tore through the thick night air. "Brian!"

Mr. Beach lifted his hands to his mouth and joined in, his booming voice reaching considerably farther. "Brian!"

They kept at it for a minute, shouting themselves hoarse as they called out Brian's name in different directions, with no result. Freddie, who remembered all too vividly just how isolating and impenetrable those walls of corn had felt from the inside, realised with a sinking feeling that their voices were just not cutting it.

Perhaps the car horn would succeed where they had failed?

"This is pointless," Mr. Beach sighed. "Freddie, I think-"

But Freddie would never find out what Mr. Beach would have said next, as just then they were hit by a gust of wind - a shockwave, really - so sudden it almost knocked them to the ground. The sea of corn had suddenly come alive, swaying and rustling as one entity. And then, almost dead straight ahead, not at all far from where Freddie had estimated the crop circle to be located, a single beam of concentrated bright light suddenly split the darkness. At first, Freddie thought someone had turned on a big searchlight, and his imagination briefly ran away with him - had the British Army descended on their little village looking for an alien on the run? - but when he looked up at the sky to find the source of the light, he quickly realised that was no army helicopter hanging there.

What kind of object it was exactly he couldn't tell - the light was so blinding that it wasn't impossible to look straight into it - but it was certainly _large_ , blocking out a portion of the sky and the stars that should be in it. Beside him, he heard Mr. Beach gasp and reach into the car to switch off the engine. The headlights dimmed and Freddie turned off the flashlight so they were immersed in darkness and, hopefully, hidden from whatever was out there.

"Freddie," Mr. Beach said softly, trying to sound calm even though each syllable was laced with tension, "get in the car."

Freddie didn't respond. Surprisingly, he didn't feel scared, only mesmerised, shielding his eyes and peering through his eyelashes at that _thing_ hovering up there. He couldn't make out much more than a dark, faint shape. It could only be one thing, really. _How bloody cool. Rog and Deaks are going to be pissed they missed this._

"Get in the car, Freddie," Mr. Beach repeated, more insistently, but Freddie shook his head. He wanted to _look_. If these were Brian's people, they couldn't be hostile, right? Brian certainly had no evil or violent bone in his body, so what was there to fear?

Mr. Beach said nothing else. Perhaps he, too, was pinching himself over what appeared to be happening right in front of them, a spectacle worthy of a science fiction novel.

Freddie couldn't have said how long they stood there gaping up at the sky - maybe not more than thirty breathless seconds. All that time, the light didn't move or change in any way. Until, finally, he realised he saw something - a shape travelling upwards along that path of light. From where he stood, he couldn't make out more than a shadow, but it looked vaguely person-like, a vertically levitating body with what looked to be four limbs and a head, rising higher and higher above the corn.

And still it did not sink in until the beam of light began to dissolve from the ground up. Higher and higher the shape travelled, towards the _thing_ in the sky, where it would inevitably be swallowed up before too long. With the column of light getting shorter and shorter, the night's natural darkness taking its place once more, it appeared any way back to earth had effectively been cut off.

That was when Freddie snapped out of his trance and realised, in sudden horror, what exactly it was that he was witnessing, and what its implications were. "Brian!" he screamed, and he began to run, heading straight for the corn, only to be intercepted at the last second by Mr. Beach, who slung an arm around his shoulders and held him back with surprising strength. The sense of betrayal was painfully real. "Let me go! It's Brian!"

"I know, Freddie," Mr. Beach said softly, "but we're too late, there's nothing you can do now. Maybe there never was. He's going home, isn't that the outcome we wanted in the end? He'll be safe with his own kind, that's what's important. Let him go."

"Yes. No..." Freddie sobbed, an ugly, raw sound. It was all so very confused in his head and in his heart, so jumbled and muddled his feelings. "Not like this. He didn't even say goodbye. After everything we've been through, he didn't even say _goodbye_!" His voice broke on the last 'goodbye', ending on a shrill note.

"I'm sorry, my boy." Mr. Beach wrapped both arms around him, not so much to restrain now as to comfort, and he did sound quite heartbroken himself. "I truly am."

It wasn't Miami's fault. The man had gone above and beyond, genuinely wanting to help - Freddie knew that deep down. But still he pulled away, although he didn't try to run this time, acknowledging the hopelessness of it all. The light was almost completely gone, the _thing_ still there for now, but Freddie was no longer interested in any of it - the crushing sense of loss he felt looking at it caught him completely unprepared. Turning around and slumping against the roof of the car, he buried his face in his arms and began to cry his little heart out.


	18. xviii

_He'd felt no apprehension until he actually got there.  
_

_And why would he have? Fear wasn't what had made him go out that window. It wasn't cold outside, and the dark didn't bother him - he had the moon for company, after all, a comforting albeit distant presence on his journey. The good people of the village were all safe and snug in their beds, and he encountered no one on the streets to whom he might have to explain himself. The walk took longer than he would have preferred, though - he could've covered the distance a lot faster if he could ride one of those ingenious two-wheelers, but he had tried it before and established they were a lot trickier to operate than they looked, surely one of those skills that could only be acquired with time. His three friends certainly had the art of it down pat.  
_

_He found the location easily and hadn't been waiting long when They sent an Emissary down to rendezvous with him. He knew enough even then, but he plucked up his courage and asked all the same. About her, about the woman whose voice had called to him and filled him with such a primal sense of yearning as he had never experienced before.  
_

_He asked because he had to know he was making the right decision. Truth be told, he didn't know the answer could sway him either way, but he had to know all the same. With the wisdom of hindsight, he wondered why he hadn't asked a long time ago. It was all so confusing. Why had it taken coming to a completely foreign world for him to start to learn about himself and his place in the universe? Why had They never bothered to explain or tell him anything?  
_

_Well, he got his answers and then some, and in a sense, they confirmed what he'd already suspected. Solidified his decision, too. Filled him with regret at having wasted all that time. He supposed he could have felt angry and bitter, but he didn't. Maybe that would come later. For sure it would. For now, though, there was only profound sadness over losing something he had never had in the first place and didn't know he wanted until recently.  
_

_Every answer spawned at least a dozen new questions, though, and he could probably have stayed there for hours, wringing that unfortunate Emissary dry for every drop of information they had to offer, but up there They were already getting nervous - the dawn was not far off. Which meant he couldn't afford to delay much longer either.  
_

_So he gave his answer. He was going back.  
_

_It wasn't what They wanted to hear, probably wasn't what They'd expected either, but he didn't care. They'd invested a lot in him, treated him well in Their own way, but it wasn't enough, not anymore. Not now that his eyes and ears had been opened to the things this strange, polluted, flawed and fragile planet had to offer. Plants and flowers and animals great and small. Lemonade and ice cream and bubble gum and candy in every colour. Music in discs and in strings and in very small boxes. Little pebbles from the bottom of a stream in a thousand different shapes, books with images from all over the planet and those mystifying letters in sequences that he was dying to decipher so he could unlock their secrets too. The sound a cat made when it was happy and the feeling of one falling asleep on your feet.  
_

_Friendship. That incomparable feeling of recognition in seeing someone who looked like him. And yet there was a stark duality to finding a place to belong and feeling like a complete stranger in it.  
_

_Maybe it would be his lot to live the rest of his life feeling torn in two. He'd still take that over the alternative.  
_

_As he made his way back through the corn and the Emissary was brought back in for the unhappy task of reporting the outcome, he was surprised They let him walk without wiping his memory clean. Perhaps someone up there was fond of him after all - or They were letting him keep his memories as punishment. A reminder of what he had forsaken in favour of a third grade, overcrowded little planet on a path to self-destruction. Surely They thought he would regret his choice before too long. And even if he did share what little he knew with his new people, what harm could it do? Even if they believed him, humans were so limited in what they could do. Their world was so small. At least that was what he had always been told, and he had believed it until he actually got here.  
_

_As he approached the edge of the field, he began seeing a light he wasn't expecting, two lights actually and they appeared to be emanating from the eyes of one of those four-wheeled vehicles he'd been seeing around the village quite a lot. Unsure as to what this meant, he took the precaution of hiding in the corn and making himself small. The encounter with the boy called Sid had taught him that not all humans were friendly.  
_

_He saw shapes moving out there, heard voices talking indistinctly. Voices he suddenly thought he knew. But the events of this night had made him somewhat wary of voices and what he thought they meant. He held his breath and waited, listening intently to make sure he hadn't misheard._

\--

Thankfully, Mr. Beach let Freddie have his little cry in privacy and didn't try to comfort him or cheer him up with empty phrases of reassurance - nothing he could've said would have made a difference. Instead, he did what Freddie emphatically  _didn't_  and watched the thing, spaceship, or whatever it was. Freddie didn't give a damn either way.

"It's gone, Freddie," Miami said after what felt like ages, and he switched the car headlights back on.

"Good," Freddie said hoarsely, as he wiped his puffy eyes and sniffled. Mr. Beach put a hand on his shoulder.

"Try not to be bitter, Freddie," he said gently, "or you'll say things you're sure to regret later. Brian is your friend, and he must have had good reasons for leaving the way he did. I know it hurts right now, but as time goes by, I'm sure you'll remember fondly the time you got to spend together."

It was on Freddie's lips to say more scathing things, but for once, he thought the better of it just in time. Miami was right - Brian didn't deserve his bitterness. Not the Brian he knew. It was just so sudden and unexpected, so uncharacteristic for Brian too. It made no sense at all, and Freddie couldn't shake the disconcerting feeling that something about it was off. What if Brian hadn't left entirely voluntarily? Was he supposed to spend the rest of his life looking up at the sky and wondering what happened to his friend?

"I'll just miss him," was all he said, deflated, and Miami's fingers squeezed his shoulder sympathetically.

"I know you will, lad. No need to explain."

There wasn’t much else to be said. At long last Freddie chanced a look up at the sky. It looked completely normal once again, undisturbed and unremarkable, the stars twinkling merrily as if they had any right to. It was almost as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all, were it not for the ache deep in his chest telling him differently. He wondered if this was what heartbreak felt like. If so, if this was part of growing up, he wanted no part of it.

And yet, in spite of everything, he also knew even now that he wouldn't have missed this week for the world. So maybe one day he would indeed be able to reminisce fondly like Miami said - he hoped so - but right now that day felt a long way off.

And while he hated this place for all that it represented, at the same time he found himself reluctant to leave, tempted to go in and investigate the site for... yes, for what? A goodbye letter? Brian couldn't write. Some other token left behind for him to find?  _Oh, don't be pathetic_. But something was undeniably still pulling at him. "I want to go in," he heard himself say. "I want to go in and have a look around."

"If that's what you want to do, Freddie, I will help you. Tomorrow, in daylight."

Freddie hesitated, took a step forward as he squinted into the darkness. It was probably a trick of his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw something move out there just now. A glimpse of... could it be white clothing? A pair of eyes glinting in the moonlight?

_And there it was again._

"Freddie, do you hear me? The only way you're going tonight is home, young man. I don't even want to think about how I'd begin to explain all this to your poor Mum-"

Freddie didn't even hear him anymore. Heart beating fast, he turned his flashlight back on and pointed it at the corn in front of him, needing to make sure he wasn't going mad. Hidden in there, maybe no more than fifteen paces ahead, was undeniably a little boy in white cowering close to the ground, looking small and scared as he peered out from his hiding place. He flinched at the flashlight shining into his eyes, only for a moment, as the thing nearly slipped from Freddie's suddenly-numb fingers the next. "Bri-", he whispered, and he broke into a run, feeling leaves slap him in the face as he slalomed his way through without much concern for the crop. This time, not even a thousand strong horses could have stopped him.

"Brian, it's Freddie." He dropped to his knees in front of his friend, relief and confusion fighting it out within his chest. Wide, guilty eyes met his, and for a long, scary moment, he couldn't have said if Brian recognised him. "How- I can't believe- I thought you'd left! I saw-" He cut himself off there, embarrassed by his rambling. Brian was still staring at him like a frightened animal and his face was blotched and dirt-streaked, like he'd been crying. Freddie couldn't bear the thought. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, reaching out. He was worried Brian might flinch away, but he did quite the opposite, leaning his cheek into Freddie's hand like a cat starved for affection. That was an encouraging sign, at least.

"Is he all right, Freddie?" Miami called. He wasn't a particularly bulky guy, but the corn was no terrain for a grown man so he had opted to stay behind and let Freddie take the reins on this one, too. That didn't mean that he wasn't concerned, however, especially as he couldn't see the boys very well from where he stood.

"I'm not sure yet, but I think so." Freddie grasped Brian's shoulders gently, eyes searching his face for signs of recognition, a reassuring smile, _anything_. "Talk to me, Brian, please. Are you hurt?"

Brian shook his head, then changed his mind and nodded, pointing at his chest. It wasn't lost on Freddie what he meant.

"Oh, Bri, what happened? Why didn't you leave, with your family? We saw everything. We thought you'd gone with them. Gone home."

"Brian not go," Brian croaked. Thank God, he still had his voice. "Brian like Freddie, different."

"Different?" Freddie was puzzled, but he knew that Brian must be referring to that conversation they'd had the night before. _Was it really only the night before?_ "Different how? You're different from your family, is that what you're saying?"

"Not family." Brian shook his head sadly. "Not mother, father, sister, like Freddie. Just Brian."

"You don't have a family?" Freddie asked uncertainly. He'd never heard of such a thing. Everyone he knew had at least had a mother and a father at some point. "Then... then who were _they_?" He glanced up at the sky. "Why did they leave without you?"

Brian shrugged. Even if he understood Freddie's questions, he didn't have the words to explain.

"Okay." Freddie breathed out slowly, realising this wasn't helping. "Okay, it doesn't matter. I just thought... you'd gone home, I guess. With them."

Brian shook his head again, frustrated at the inadequacy of his own vocabulary. "Freddie not understand," he said emphatically, determined for Freddie to get it. "This, _home_. Brian stay. With Freddie, Roger, Deaky." He bit his lip anxiously. "Brian not have family, but have friends. Yes?"

And Freddie, finally, understood. He was as stunned as he was ashamed. They'd all been so focused on getting Brian home that they hadn't stopped to consider that maybe he'd already found it. Never once had they bothered to find out if Brian actually had a family to return to - all they would have had to do was _ask_ him. He felt tears rising to his eyes again and cursed himself for being such a cry-baby, but at least they were mostly good tears this time - Brian was still here, and it was because he wanted to be.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely, "of course. We can be your friends _and_ your family. Your brothers. I've always wanted one. We'll teach you all kinds of stuff. You can go swimming with us next summer, and we'll have to get you a bike somehow. But..." His heart sank, heavy with a sudden realisation. "Oh, Brian, I'm sorry, but you can't live with me. I wish you could, but my Dad wouldn't agree." He had never directly told Brian this - it had only been talked about, by them, to each other - and he realised now what an oversight that had been. In truth, he had been putting it off like the coward he was, because telling Brian would have made their separation unavoidably real. But tonight Brian had made a momentous decision about his future without knowing the full truth, and it was all Freddie's fault.

Brian lowered his eyes and nodded. He seemed oddly unsurprised. "Yes. Brian know."

"You do?" Freddie blinked. "How?"

Brian didn't respond straight away. But when he eventually looked up, there was that twinkle in his eye again that they'd seen at Miami's house earlier that day. "Freddie talk, Brian listen," he said, pointing at his ears, and Freddie laughed in amazement and relief. He bloody well _knew_ how smart Brian was - then why did he keep underestimating him so tragically?

"Friends and Miami help Brian find new home," Brian went on bravely. "Yes?"

Freddie nodded and smiled. "Yeah." It was true, they still had that challenge ahead of them, but somehow it felt less insurmountable than it did before. "If that's what you want. I mean... I realise we've been talking over your head quite a lot, making decisions about your life without asking for your opinion, but that stops now, okay?"

"Okay."

"No looking back, only forward."

"Okay." Brian gently brushed Freddie's cheek with one of his knuckles. "Brian cry too," he confessed almost proudly, "like normal boy."

"I'm afraid none of us are what society considers normal, Bri," Freddie grinned, "but you're part of our gang now, for better or worse. Family forever, right? Let's pinky swear on it." He held up his hand and when Brian mirrored him, he looped his little finger around Brian's. "There, that's a sacred promise that can't be broken, ever. We're brothers now, and we'll always look out for each other. Yeah?"

"Yeah." Brian smiled, and Freddie could tell he understood. He looked back over his shoulder. Miami was still there, waiting by the car, but he had taken a few steps back to give them privacy. It was time to go. Time to pray, too, that his Mum hadn't woken up and sent the entire police force out looking for them.

"C'mon, Bri," he said gently, leaning in and wrapping an arm around Brian's shoulder. "Let's go home."


	19. xix

Mr. Beach couldn't hide his relief entirely when the two boys finally emerged from the corn, red-eyed but smiling. "Hello, Brian," he said warmly. "You've decided to stay with us, I gather. I'm so pleased, my boy."

"Hi, Mr. Beach," Brian shyly replied. "Yes, Brian decide, stay. Find new home, like find friends. Earth good, Brian be normal boy and happy."

Mr. Beach nodded, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "What a remarkable, brave little chap you are," he murmured. "And you, Freddie. I find myself quite humbled by a pair of ten-year-olds. And believe me, I don't say that every day."

"Does that mean we can call you Miami now?" Freddie asked, a little too eagerly, and Mr. Beach laughed. It was a welcome sound to all of them.

"Brian can."

"What?" Freddie was indignant. "Why just Brian? Why not me?"

"Because I'm not his teacher." Miami winked. "At least not yet. Right, lads, in the car with you and straight home. You must be as ready to get out of here as I am."

Those were true words, and they obeyed without any further prompting needed, Freddie squeezing into the back seat next to Brian because after the emotional anguish his friend had been through tonight, he wasn't going to let him out of his sight for the next little while. It was Brian's first time driving in a car, but he was either too tired or too preoccupied to show much excitement about it, leaning back in his seat and throwing a last look out the window as they slowly pulled away.

It was only when Freddie leaned across to help Brian into his seatbelt that he noticed the fingers of Brian's left hand were curled around a little object. "What's that, Bri?"

Brian self-consciously opened his hand and showed him. It was the little music box he'd won at the fair, his only worldly possession besides the clothes on his back.

"You had it with you all this time?" Freddie took it in wonder and wound it up, Miami's eyes flicking to the rear view mirror as _Clair de Lune_ began to play. "Were you... going to take it with you into space? As a souvenir?"

"What means souvenir?"

"It's something you bring home with you from a faraway place, something to remember that place by." He gave a little chuckle. "That's the thought of it, anyway. In reality it usually ends up on a shelf somewhere to collect dust."

Brian thought about this for a moment and shook his head. "Not souvenir. Brian take box because music make Brian feel good." He cocked his head, searching for a better word, and then tapped his chest. "Strong. Not alone."

Freddie got it. "It gives you courage, yeah, I feel that, mate. It does that for me, too." He placed the box back in Brian's palm and Brian cupped his other hand over it protectively, a dreamy smile pulling at his mouth. "I'm glad you took it, Bri. I'm glad you had something to help you feel brave out there. If it were me, I'd have been shi- I mean, I'd have been shaking in my boots."

"Nice save, Freddie," Miami chuckled. "I'm sure Brian will learn the wrong words before too long, but let's try to teach him the right ones first, shall we?"

"Sorry, sir." Freddie blushed beet red at realising how close he'd come to swearing in the presence of a teacher. At the same time, his mind did a double take on that little word - _we_ \- just like it had on something Miami had said earlier. "Sir?"

"Yes, Freddie?"

"When you said..." He cast a sidelong glance at Brian, knowing that he heard every word. "Earlier, when you said you weren't Brian's teacher _yet_ , what did you mean?"

"Ah. Nothing escapes you, does it?" Miami smiled. "Well, I think we should strive to get Brian enrolled in school as soon as possible, don't you? And to do that we need to get him caught up to where he should be at. That includes cursive writing, math, spelling, history, everything. I plan on doing my bit for that."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really." Miami's eyes met his in the mirror. "Why? Is that surprising?"

"No, it's just..." Freddie bit his lip. "Private lessons? That's going to be costly, isn't it? Who's going to pay for all that?"

"Freddie Bulsara," Miami chided, "that better be a joke. You are way too young to be worrying about things like that, young man."

Freddie grinned. He was turning into quite the worrywart, it was true. He poked Brian in the leg excitedly. "Do you hear that, Brian? Going to school with me and the guys, learning all kinds of stuff, how d'you fancy that? Would you like that?" Brian smiled and nodded sleepily. "Do you really think he's going to be able to, sir? Wouldn't he need all kinds of papers for that? Like, a birth certificate, for starters?"

"Yes, he would." They were approaching the village and Mr. Beach adjusted his speed accordingly. "Did you know that I studied law for a couple years, Freddie?"

Freddie raised his eyebrows, not entirely sure why he was being given this information. "No."

"Well, I did. I didn't pursue it until the very end, mind you, but I did pick up a thing or two. I'm still in touch with some of my old mates from those years, too. Remember when I said I had a couple calls to make?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, that's probably all I should say about that. Suffice it to say that I'm working on it, Freddie, so please don't worry about any of that stuff. That's not your job, it's mine. And so help me God, I'm getting that boy into school even if it's the last thing I do."

Freddie didn't know what to say. It seemed that when they chose their ally, they chose even better than they could have hoped for. "I really can't thank you enough for everything you do, sir," he said softly. "Honestly. You're the best."

"I already told you, Freddie, there's no need for that. Every kid deserves a safe home and access to education. If I didn't try to help Brian get those most basic of things, what kind of person would that make me?" He signalled a turn, and for a minute, no one said anything. Eventually Miami's eyes wandered back to the rear view mirror. "You all right back there? Getting a little tired maybe?"

"Not really, sir," Freddie said. He'd been quietly gazing out the window, thinking about all the good things yet ahead of them. "I'm just so happy." And it was the truth - his heart felt so full he thought it might burst. By now they were only a few streets away from his house, though, and although he hadn't seen any signs of police presence yet, he began craning his neck anxiously. Next to him, Brian was in a state somewhere between waking and sleep, completely oblivious to what might await them at the house - which was probably for the best.

As they finally rounded the corner and came up to the house, Freddie could immediately see that the lights were on in the living room and the kitchen. _Shit_. Why did his Mum have to be such an early riser?

But there was no police car parked outside. So there was that at least.

Still, he must have sworn under his breath, because once he'd parked the car and switched the engine off, Miami looked over his shoulder and said reassuringly, "It'll be okay, Freddie. I'll come with you and help explain things."

Freddie bit his lip. "How much do we tell her? Everything?"

"I think that would be best, Freddie. Your Mum's been kindly giving Brian shelter this week. You told me she cares for him. I'd say she deserves to know the truth."

Freddie reached over and shook Brian gently. "Bri? We're here. When we go in, my Mum may freak out a little bit, okay? She's going to have questions. Can we tell her what happened, and where you come from?"

Brian yawned and nodded, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah."

"You sure? I don't know how she's going to react."

"Yeah." Brian gave him a drowsy smile, as if to reassure him. "Not worry, Freddie."

_Well._

He had to give it to his Mum - she was not a woman prone to hysteria. So when she came to the door at his knocking - he didn't want to ring the doorbell and wake up Kash, as well - and saw her son and his friend, whom she had believed to be safely in their beds, standing on the doorstep, she didn't have much of a first reaction other than one of stunned surprise.

"Hi, Mum," Freddie said sheepishly, "don't be startled, we're fine. Mr. Beach was so kind as to bring us home. Uh - you've met, right?"

"Hello, Mrs. Bulsara," Miami said, stepping to the front and shaking her hand. With him in his pyjamas and her in her robe, it was a meeting for the books indeed. A blessing she didn't wear curlers to bed, Freddie thought gratefully. "Jim Beach. My apologies for the house call at this unorthodox hour and for showing up at your door like this. Would it be all right if I came in for a minute and explained the circumstances?"

Still speechless, she nodded and stepped aside to let them in. It was only when she got a proper look at Brian, white clothes all grimy and his face bearing dried-up tear tracks, that she let out a small gasp of concern. "Brian, love, what happened?"

"Brian okay," he croaked, mouth wobbling a bit, and before they realised it, he'd thrown his thin arms around her waist and hugged her. His reassuring words notwithstanding, Jer Bulsara knew an affection-starved child when she saw one, and this boy had clearly been put through the wringer emotionally in the past couple of hours. It made no difference that he wasn't hers - she put her arms around him like his own mother would do and stroked his hair.

Where _was_ this child's mother? What kind of parent sent their child to stay with family for the summer and never once checked in on them? Her instincts had never been fully satisfied by the measles story, and in hindsight, she wondered why she hadn't checked it with John's mother.

(If she was honest, it was probably because Brian's plight had resonated with her. There was something about him, a vulnerability and gentleness of spirit, that spoke to her feelings as a mother. She had also sensed an innate loneliness in him, and seeing him blossom and come out of his shell over the past week had made her so proud of Freddie and his friends that she hadn't wanted to question their story.)

"Right," she said, looking at both Freddie and Mr. Beach calmly but sternly. "You two better come in and explain exactly what is going on."


	20. xx

Once they got settled in the living room, there was a brief moment of expectant silence, and Freddie uncharacteristically found himself at a loss for words. His thoughts were running wild, his emotions still raw and frayed from everything that had transpired - where was he supposed to begin? Thankfully, Miami generously took it upon himself to do the majority of the talking, and Freddie sat back and listened in bewilderment as his teacher - who cut quite a comical figure in his overcoat and pyjama bottoms - recounted what had happened since Brian first showed up in the Bulsaras' backyard. _Was this an adventure story or real life?_ Just a few short weeks ago he'd been in class sighing over long divisions, an almost laughable thought. He felt like a completely different kid - and maybe he was. 

Most of it was lost on Brian. Exhausted from the night's events, he'd curled up on the couch almost immediately and fallen asleep with his head in Jer's lap. Freddie was quite tempted to lie down and pass out himself, as he found himself fighting the urge the minute he sat down, but he wasn't going to give in and sleep while the grownups decided on his friend's fate. Not a chance. 

His Mum, it had to be said, took the news in her stride. She listened without interrupting, her gaze occasionally wandering over to Freddie who kept bracing himself to see disappointment or hurt - he had lied to her, not once but many times, which in their household was not an offense taken lightly - but what he saw in her eyes instead was far more complex than that. 

As he spoke, Miami regularly turned to Freddie to check facts for accuracy. "Did I remember that right, Freddie?" he'd say, or "And what exactly happened then?" Glad to contribute in some way at least, Freddie provided additional information where he could, describing their visit to the library, their first experience at the cornfield that had left them all in such a strange mood, Brian's first forays into playing the guitar. And of course it also fell to him to share what Brian had told him after he'd found him hiding in the corn that night, a message that may have been delivered in poor English but was no less heart-wrenching because of it. 

"He told me he doesn't have any family." Freddie spoke in the direction of the floor. He wouldn't soon forget the scared, haunted look he'd seen in Brian's eyes tonight. "I don't know who those aliens are, or why and how he ended up here. Maybe one day he will want and be able to tell us. But he did tell me he wants to stay here, and be one of us." He turned a beseeching look to Jer. "I'm sorry I lied to you, Mum. I had my reasons and I think they were good reasons, but I'm still sorry and I didn't like doing it. Please don't blame Brian - I don't think he even knows what lying is. All he wants is to learn and discover and experience life, but he'd be an easy target for anyone with the wrong intentions. We were only trying to protect him." 

Jer Bulsara looked at her son and felt her heart clench in that way almost all mothers experience at some point. The overriding emotion she felt was pride, mixed with a little wistfulness for the little boy she could see turning into a young man more every day. He had changed this week, become a more thoughtful, mature version of himself, and she knew a lot of that was owing to the responsibility he'd shouldered in regards to Brian. The fact that he had lied to her, while disappointing, didn't seem so important compared to that. _Good thoughts, good words, good deeds,_  was the adage by which the Bulsaras tried to live their lives, and as she'd kept telling her husband over the phone, Freddie had done very good deeds this week. She still held to that belief now - perhaps even more so. 

She then looked down at the boy curled up beside her and found that all these stories about aliens and spaceships, bewildering though they were, did not alter the way she looked at him at all. Perhaps it was because she looked with a mother's eyes, but all she saw was a child desperately in need of love, and her caring heart went out to him as she was sure any mother's would. 

"Poor little one," she murmured, as she gently stroked those tumultuous curls. "No mother or father to look out for you. I wonder what you've seen that you shouldn't have." 

Freddie relaxed ever so slightly in his seat. He hadn't _truly_ thought that his Mum would recoil from Brian once she knew the truth, but her reaction was a relief all the same. "I really am sorry, Mum." 

"I do wish you'd told me, Freddie," she said softly. "Lying is wrong, as we've taught you, but I also understand that you didn't do it for your own sake. And I am proud of you regardless, for the way you and your friends have looked after Brian. I have been tremendously impressed by that, watching you this week, and I still am. And I am glad that you came to the realisation that you needed help and went to Mr. Beach. That shows a great deal of maturity." Miami nodded in agreement, and she looked over at him. "My Freddie's always spoken highly of you, Mr. Beach. Please accept my apologies for being curt with you earlier. And thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for bringing these boys home safely." 

"It was no trouble at all," he assured her, "although I must admit I was somewhat questioning the wisdom of my actions until the moment we saw what we saw with our own eyes. But Freddie was adamant, and, as it turned out, rightly so. And while we are on this subject, I would like to add that I too am impressed by how these boys have handled a most extraordinary situation. Brian and your son seem to have an especially close connection, which I think will prove beneficial to them both. I for one believe Brian has as much to teach Freddie as the other way around." He winked at Freddie, who blushed at the gentle jab. Which, to be fair, he probably deserved just as much as the praise. Even in Mr. Beach's class, his behaviour had not always been exemplary. 

Jer nodded thoughtfully and looked at Brian again, her hand still resting atop his head. He looked heartbreakingly young, and suddenly awakening inside her she felt an instinctive urge to protect this boy, just as she would Freddie or Kashmira. "Well, Mr. Beach, I'm sure it's all very fascinating what you and Freddie have seen, but what I care about is this child. What is going to happen to him?" 

Mr. Beach smiled. Her pragmatic approach, coupled with the fact that she obviously cared for Brian, was more than he could have hoped for. "I haven't had much time to make arrangements yet," he replied, "but the absolute priority should be to find Brian an adoptive family, preferably local, and to get him registered as a British citizen and enrolled in school so he can receive a normal education alongside his peers. He has a lot to learn, but with his intelligence, it shouldn't be difficult to achieve. I will volunteer as much of my time as I can to get him caught up on the curriculum." 

"Good." She nodded her approval. "School is important. And until a suitable family is found, no matter how long it takes, he is more than welcome to stay here." 

At this, Freddie sat up attentively, his tiredness suddenly gone. "Mum?" 

"What is it, _beta_?" 

His gaze went to Miami and back to her. Up until this moment, he had been working under the assumption that Brian and his Dad were never to meet. "Well... what about Dad?" 

"Leave your father to me." 

"But-" 

"I will talk to him. Gradually introduce him to the truth, when the time is right." She nodded at Miami. "Freddie and his father don't always see eye to eye and they judge each other quite harshly, but my husband is a good and caring man, Mr. Beach. He wouldn't turn away a homeless child, no matter where they came from." 

"That's not what I'm worried about, Mum." 

She smiled. "Don't worry, the police won't get called. Brian will be absolutely safe here. I'll make sure of that." 

Freddie sank back into his chair slowly. The decision was out of his hands and he didn't like that, but whom could he trust if not his Mum? And she was fond of Brian, that much was beyond all doubt. But could she truly persuade his Dad to foster a kid he'd never even met before? 

Miami, meanwhile, reached over and clasped Jer's hand in gratitude. "Mrs. Bulsara, I won't lie, that's a big weight off my chest. We were operating under such a tight deadline that it was really giving me palpitations. Mind you, me and my wife would have fostered Brian ourselves if necessary, but as I told Freddie this afternoon, I think we should try to give him as much stability as we possibly can. I hope you'll agree?" 

She nodded. "No need to thank me, Mr. Beach. Brian's a lovely lad, an absolute delight to have around the house. I have absolutely no doubt there is a deserving family for him out there, who have all the love to offer him and more." 

"I believe this as well," Miami said, "but it will be a relief to know Brian is safe and cared for in the interim. It gives us time to find the right home for him and get him comfortably transitioned. I'd hate to rush such a thing and yank him from an environment he's already become attached to." As he said this, he looked at Brian, who stirred briefly in his sleep and then sank back into what appeared to be a peaceful, dreamless state. 

"Mr. Beach, we are completely in agreement." 

Miami looked at Freddie. "What about you, Freddie? Do you agree that this is the best possible solution for Brian?" 

"I guess," Freddie admitted hesitantly. "I just can't help but worry about Dad." 

"Would it reassure you if I talked to him as well?" 

Freddie considered the offer for a moment, then nodded. 

"All right, then I will. I promise you, Freddie, this is not some adult conspiracy. We're all on the same side here, and I wouldn't want you to feel differently. Okay?" 

"Okay," Freddie said, and he offered up a grateful smile. For the first time, he felt a little jolt of excitement - they still had several weeks until school started, oceans of time that they were now going to be able to spend together after all, hopefully without the heavy pall of uncertainty over them. "Yeah, that makes me feel better. Thank you, sir." 

"Good. That's settled then. And on that note, I think I'll take my leave so both these boys can catch up on lost sleep in their own beds. It's been quite a night for everyone." He gestured at Brian. "I can carry him upstairs, if you like. Be a shame to wake him up." 

Jer nodded gratefully, and so Miami scooped Brian up in his arms carefully - he was so slight that the weight shouldn't hinder him too much going up the stairs. "Off to bed you go, little lad," he murmured, and although Brian's eyes briefly fluttered open, they closed again almost immediately, head lolling heavily against Miami's shoulder. He was truly wiped, and Freddie also found himself staggering on his feet as he led the way upstairs, with Jer bringing up the rear. 

Freddie's handwritten note to his Mum was still on his pillow - it felt like forever since he left it there. He crumpled it up and stowed it under the pillow before face-planting into it while Miami lowered Brian into his cot, floppy limbs and all. Jer pulled off his shoes and covered him with the sheet, finding the music box still clenched between his fingers and placing it next to his pillow without comment. 

"Good night, Freddie - and no more worrying," Miami said from where he stood in the doorway. "I'll see myself out, Mrs. Bulsara. Thank you, and I'll be in touch soon." 

Soon thereafter, Freddie heard the front door softly close and Miami's car start. His Mum closed the window and the curtains, looking over her shoulder one last time to make sure both boys were tucked up. "Try to sleep, Freddie. I'll ask Kash to keep the noise down in the morning." 

"Love you, Mum," Freddie murmured. 

"Love you too, _beta_ ," she said, simple as that, and left, quietly closing the door behind her. 

Freddie didn't expect he'd have any trouble sleeping. He felt himself slipping away already, even as his groggy thoughts turned to his two other friends, who were probably soundly asleep like babes and had missed out on all the excitement. Oh yes - they were going to be _pissed_ when they found out. 

But their little band was still together - no longer a trio but a quartet - and would hopefully be for a long time to come. Smiling at that thought, he soon fell deeply asleep.


	21. xxi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a sweet little scene with Jer and Brian - as suggested by Ale. Thanks! :)

To Brian, waking up that morning was a somewhat bewildering experience. He had no recollection of having gone to bed at any point, but he did know one thing - it sure was a good feeling to wake up in his own comfy cot, and the first thing he did, even before opening his eyes, was to turn his face into the pillow for a moment and thankfully inhale its warm, familiar scent into his lungs. 

Next to his pillow sat the music box. He touched it briefly with his finger, almost as if to reassure himself of its presence, before sitting up and looking around the room he had come to know so well. And yet the world looked just a little different this morning, although he couldn't have said how exactly. Even through the closed curtains, he could tell it was very bright outside, and he could hear the birds singing their jubilant song. He loved the sound, and felt a longing to go outside and greet them. With Roger's help, he had been trying to learn how to whistle himself, with varying success. 

He looked to his left, at Freddie, who clearly wouldn't be ready to join him in the land of the living anytime soon - he was asleep with his mouth wide open, a little dried-up spittle visible in the corner of his mouth. Seeing it, he couldn't suppress a smile. Incredible, the abandon with which that boy could sleep. 

He slipped out of bed and quietly peeled off his clothes, knowing he wouldn't wear them again after today if he could help it. The garments They had dressed him in represented too much he didn't necessarily care to be reminded of. Even last night They'd made sure to let him know, through the Emissary, that by choosing the way he had, he'd let Them down. In fact, he'd gotten the feeling he'd somehow failed a test. 

What kind of test, he didn't know. There'd been no time to ask all the questions he wanted to, and They might not have given him answers even if there had been. But he'd have a lifetime to try and put the pieces of the puzzle together on his own. He wasn't going to think about it today, though - not while it was all so fresh in his mind that the clinical truths They'd callously shared with him still sliced like knives. 

He put on shorts and a T-shirt, and as he went to leave the room in search of distraction - and nourishment for his rumbling stomach - Deaky's guitar propped up in the corner caught his eye. It called to him, so he picked it up, padding down the stairs on bare feet. With one hand he held on to the railing, the other arm curled protectively around the instrument. He had no concept of money and didn't know the economic value the instrument represented, especially to a family like the Deacons, but it would never occur to him to treat anything carelessly. 

Mrs. Bulsara was in the kitchen. He vaguely recalled her wearing a robe a few hours earlier, but a dress had taken its place. She always wore pretty colours and very nice fabrics, but her most beautiful asset by far was her smile. It had a way of making him feel good, lighter somehow. 

"Good morning, Brian," she said warmly. "How did you sleep?" 

"Hi," he said shyly, looking at her face for clues. Had Freddie and Miami told her everything? Had it changed her opinion of him at all? "Yes, sleep good. Freddie sleep, still. Where Kash?" 

"She's gone to a friend's to play." Jer opened the fridge. "Are you hungry? I'll warm up some milk for oatmeal, make toast." 

He nodded gratefully. "Yes, please." 

"Orange juice?" 

"Yes, please." 

"Come wash your hands," she said, and he set the guitar down and stepped up to the sink to obey. As he reached for the soap, however, he stopped, and stared at his hands in shock. They were _filthy_ , and he turned them over to see dark grime embedded beneath his fingernails. In one flash, it brought him back to that little patch of soil between the corn where he'd crouched down to hide the night before. He remembered wiping his wet face with these hands, and realised that a proper look into the bathroom mirror before coming down might have been in order. He was mortified, and lifted his hands to hide his face in. 

Jer took a clean cloth from one of the cabinets and moistened it with warm water from the tap. "Look at me, Brian," she murmured, gently prying his fingers away from his blushing cheeks and leaning down to bring their faces level. "May I?" she asked, and he nodded. The touch of the soft cloth wiping his skin clean felt pleasant, comforting, and he closed his eyes as a warm feeling of being cared for - still as bewildering to him as it was welcome - suffused him. 

"Yesterday is in the past," she told him, and he opened his eyes after a second to find her kind gaze fixed on him, lending emphasis to her words. "Today is a new day. Whoever made you cry is gone, and can't hurt you anymore. No one will, not in this house. Do you understand, Brian?" 

He nodded, slowly at first and then with more conviction. "Yeah." 

"We're going to find you a proper mother and father to take care of you. But until we do, you'll stay here and be like a second son to me. I don't want you to worry, okay?" 

"Okay." 

"There." She stood up and smiled at him. "You need a bath like nothing else, but that'll do for now." 

He stuck his hands into the sink and began scrubbing with the soap, watching with some degree of satisfaction as the dirt came off and was swallowed up by the drain. Seeing it disappear made him feel better. 

"Thank you," he began, but stumbled on the next word. From the very beginning, he had hesitated as to what to call her. Somewhere deep down he'd understood that 'Mum' wouldn't be appropriate, but 'Mrs. Bulsara', as Roger and Deaky addressed her, was quite a mouthful. 

She gazed at him thoughtfully, sensing the reason for his sudden silence. "I know," she said after a moment's consideration, "why don't you call me _mātā_? That means 'mother' in the language of my ancestors." 

" _Mātā_ ," he tried, and she nodded encouragingly. "Thank you, _mātā_." 

"You're very welcome, sweetheart." She gave him a glass of orange juice and brushed a stubborn lock from his eyes. "Your hair is getting long. You're going to need it cut soon." 

"No." He gave her a startled look, lifting his hands to his head protectively. "Not cut hair." 

"Not all of it," she reassured him, laughing softly. "I wouldn't dare. Just a little trim, so you can see properly again. Now, go on and have a seat, I'll get breakfast ready." 

He did as she suggested, sitting down at the breakfast table and taking the guitar on his knee. "Brian can?" 

"Of course. I'd love to hear you play. Freddie tells me you're quite the talent." 

He played a few chords of the song Deaky had been teaching him, but disliked the way they came out. It seemed his fingers refused to play something so cheerful this morning, and for a moment he found himself stumped - this was a new phenomenon to him. But after a moment of contemplation he tentatively began to play again, fragments of a melancholy tune that had been floating around in his mind for a little while. He wasn't sure where it came from, but it expressed how he felt a lot more accurately. 

"That's lovely, Brian," Jer said, stopping for a moment to properly listen and watch him play, "quite bittersweet, but lovely. Did you come up with that?" 

He shrugged uncertainly, hoping she wouldn't ask him how long he'd been playing. People kept telling him how exceptionally quickly he learned, but was it really anything special? He just understood this instrument instinctively, something had clicked inside him when he first picked it up and he only had to play a note once to understand what it did and where it belonged in a sequence or the context of a song. Was it not like that for everyone? 

But Jer seemed to sense his embarrassment and didn't ask further questions, merely nodded at him to encourage him to continue playing. He did, allowing his fingers to dance experimentally across the strings as he built on his budding theme note for note. In all its simplicity, it pleased him. He'd enjoyed playing the piano as well, but there was something about the guitar - a huskiness - that spoke to him more. He felt like the instrument had a soul of its own, a voice that was multifaceted and unique, and through it he could express thoughts and feelings - and he had a great many of both - for which he didn't yet have the words. 

When Jer started setting the table for breakfast, however, he put the guitar away. "Brian help," he said, getting to his feet and following her into the kitchen. Up until now, Freddie and Kash had done the majority of the helping with household tasks, as Jer rarely called on guests to pitch in, but this time she didn't deny him the opportunity, merely smiled and briefly rested her hand atop his head in a gesture of affection he wouldn't tire of anytime soon. "Thank you, love." 

When Brian came out of the kitchen balancing a tray of toast, butter and jam, he heard voices in the backyard, and a few moments later Roger and Deaky came through the door. 

"Hi Bri, hi Mrs. B," Roger said, eyeing the breakfast spread with interest. He'd surely had breakfast at home, but he was a little boy with a big appetite and rarely refused food when it was offered. 

"Good morning, boys," Jer said. "Unfortunately we're running a little behind this morning. Freddie and Brian won't be ready to go out and play until they've had breakfast, but you're welcome to stay and wait." 

"Are you sure?" Deaky asked politely, "we don't wanna be a bother." 

"Oh yes, it's not a problem." Unseen by the other two, Jer winked at Brian. It was something he'd seen people do before and while he wasn't quite sure yet what exactly it meant, he winked back - but accidentally closed two eyes instead of one. "In fact, I think you have a lot to catch up on. It's been quite an eventful night." 

"Oh?" The two boys shifted about somewhat uncomfortably and exchanged a quick glance. "In what way?" 

"Why don't you go upstairs and ask Freddie," Jer suggested, "and tell him breakfast is ready while you're at it. No one likes cold toast." 

Roger didn't have to be told twice - taking two steps at a time, or so it sounded like, he stormed up the stairs to Freddie's room. Deaky, however, didn't follow, his worried gaze lingering on Brian. "Are you okay, Bri?" 

He nodded. "Yes. Brian okay. Brian not go, but stay. Stay and be earth boy. Like friends." 

"What? What are you talking about?"  Deaky glanced at Jer and grew a bit white. "What happened?" 

"You'll have to ask Freddie, John," Jer said lightly. She wasn't truly angry with them, but she couldn't resist teasing them just a little. "I'm just the Mum and not supposed to know these things, isn't that right?" 

Deaky went from pale to beet red as it sunk in what she meant, his mind immediately jumping to his own Mum, who was going to be _so angry_ when she found out... But whatever he might have said next was cut short by a high-pitched shout coming from upstairs. 

"You saw _what_?!"


	22. xxii

"I can't believe it," Roger sighed for the umpteenth time, taking a plump strawberry and popping it into his mouth whole. They were all seated around the breakfast table, including Jer Bulsara who was pouring the boys a round of tea from a pot that she kept warm under a cosy. He was speaking to Freddie, of course. "I still can't believe you saw a UFO and are acting so blasé about it. I would have given _anything_ to have been there." 

Freddie shrugged, taking a bite of toast and chewing mechanically. He'd quickly thrown some clothes on before coming downstairs to share his story, but his hair was still uncombed and he felt he needed a bath just about as badly as Brian did. "I don't know about that, Rog. Sure, it was thrilling for a moment, but on the whole it was a pretty awful experience, to tell you the truth. I wouldn't be keen to relive that moment." 

Roger shook his head in disbelief, clearly having trouble understanding why Freddie would be downplaying such a momentous occasion like this. "Why?" 

Freddie glanced at Brian, who had his hands folded around his cup of tea and was blowing gently into it. The first time he tried tea he'd burned his mouth before anyone could warn him, and he had learned from that experience. "Because I thought they were taking Brian away, and I know that's what we originally wanted but believe me, it didn't feel so good when I actually saw it happening right in front of me. Especially because I'm not convinced those aliens treated him all that well." 

"Why do you think that?" 

He shrugged again. He understood Roger's prying - he would have done the same thing if it were him - but he also found the questions difficult. "Something in the way he looked at me when I found him. I don't know exactly what happened - maybe we never will - but they hurt him in some way. I feel it in my bones." From the corner of his eye, he saw his Mum looking at him and ducked his head in a futile attempt to hide how much the memory still affected him even now. In conclusion, he mumbled, "I suppose you had to be there." 

"Funny you should say that," Roger muttered. He took the fact that he'd missed out on seeing an alien spaceship about as well as Freddie had expected. 

Deaky, unlike Roger, hadn't said much so far. He'd listened, looking a bit white, and seemed to find it hard to meet Jer's eye, which didn't go unnoticed - least of all by her. "John, dear, are you all right?" she asked gently as she pushed a steaming cup of tea his way. 

"I'm okay, Mrs. Bulsara," he said, barely audibly. He had a very guilty conscience and it was clearly bothering him. "But I am sorry for lying to you." 

"Ah." She'd had a feeling that was weighing on his mind - she knew these boys almost as well as she did her own son. "Well, John, I won't say it's all right because I've always made it clear how I feel about lying, but given the circumstances I don't blame you for being wary. Brian's story is so unusual, and I'm well aware that some people might not be as understanding as Mr. Beach and I. Have you said anything to your own parents?" They both shook their heads vehemently, and to their surprise, she gave a nod of approval. "As much as it pains me to say it, I think that's probably for the best. Telling them might only get us further from where we want to be." 

Deaky and Roger exchanged a look. This was not the outcome they'd expected, or dreaded. "So... you're not going to tell them?" Deaky asked after a moment, dumbfounded. 

Their reaction made her smile. "Against my own principles, I'll keep the secret. For Brian's sake." 

Deaky's shoulders sagged visibly with relief, but not Roger's. "And Mr. Bulsara?" 

She gave them the same answer she had given Freddie that night. "I don't keep secrets from my husband, Roger. I will talk to him, don't worry." 

They all fell silent and Roger thoughtfully ate another strawberry. Like Freddie, they were not fully reassured, but the die was cast - for better or worse, this thing was well and truly out of their hands. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Deaky got up from his chair and walked around the table to give Brian an awkward but heartfelt hug. "I'm really happy you're staying, Bri," he mumbled, and Brian's face lit up with a smile. His eyes went to Roger, who quickly swallowed a mouthful of strawberry and nodded his agreement. "Same here, mate. Chuffed to bits." 

Brian giggled. Roger wasn't one to be demonstrative about his feelings and usually made a joke in lieu of putting into words what he really felt, but Brian seemed to get the gist all the same. "Brian happy too," he declared, and they all grinned stupidly at each other as Jer ducked her head and smiled into her tea. Surely they would bicker and be at each other's throats over silly things like all kids, but their friendship had always weathered those little storms, and Brian seemed to slot into the mix of different characters quite seamlessly. She was touched by the way they'd formed ranks around him, for the simple purpose of keeping him from falling into the wrong hands, and it was mostly for this reason that she couldn't bring herself to chastise them for deceiving her. 

"So what are you boys' plans for today?" she asked, and they all looked at each other sheepishly. They'd thought that today would be crunch time, their last chance to come through for Brian and find him a safe place of shelter, but things looked quite a bit different now. They were by no means at the end of the road, but for the first time in a while, they'd be able to go out and just _play_ , like the carefree kids they were supposed to be. It was a realisation that took a moment to click in their minds. They'd been running on adrenaline for the last couple of days, and shifting back a gear or two was going to be an adjustment. 

"I'm not sure, Mum." Freddie shrugged and grinned. "I'm going to have to go and pick up my bike at Mr. Beach's house, for one thing. And probably apologise to his wife for giving her such a fright last night. And, uh..." He realised this might be pushing it in terms of putting his Mum's goodwill to the test, but it was worth a shot. "... Can we have some money for ice cream?" 

\-- 

"But what exactly did you _see_?" 

Freddie rolled his eyes, his right hand slipping into the pocket of his shorts and making the small change his Mum had given him rattle inside. He wished Roger would let it go already, but unfortunately he'd only redoubled his efforts after they left the house. They were on their way to Mr. Beach's house - because Freddie _really_ felt crippled without his bike - and they'd decided that now was as good a time as any to start teaching Brian to ride a bike proper. Roger had generously made his bike available for the task, but poor Deaky got saddled with the bulk of it, trotting behind Brian like a worried Dad and shouting instructions as he swayed precariously left and right on Roger's bike. Once or twice, he had to intervene and grab the saddle to keep him from crashing into the bushes. 

"Eyes straight ahead, Bri. Watch where you're going. Careful - no - watch out for that tree. _Tree_ , Brian! Don't slow down, keep pedalling. _Keep pedalling!_ " 

Slowly but surely, though, Brian seemed to be mastering the art of keeping his balance - and perhaps just as importantly, of using the brakes at the right time and putting his feet to the ground to avoid toppling over. It fuelled his confidence to the point where he felt comfortable enough to cast triumphant looks over his shoulder occasionally to make sure Freddie and Roger were still paying attention. 

"I don't get it," Roger complained. "Fred, you saw a freaking _spaceship_ and you're not even excited about it. If it were me, I'd be shouting it from the rooftops." Freddie raised his eyebrows and Roger gave a sheepish look back. "Well... then again, I guess not. But I'd _want_ to." 

"I don't know what else to tell you, Rog. What little I did see, I already described to you. It was pitch dark out there, and I wasn't actually watching the whole time, either." 

Roger groaned in disbelief, and even Deaky did a double take. "You didn't watch? Why not?" 

_Because I was kind of busy... bawling my eyes out_. Freddie grimaced as he recalled weeping into his hands at the thought of losing his friend - which, for a few minutes at least, had felt like an all too devastating reality. He wasn't going to tell his friends about that, though - that was between him and Mr. Beach. 

Before he could decide how to respond instead, however, there was a resounding crash, and their heads snapped up just in time to see Brian - who had gotten a little overbold and put quite a bit of distance between himself and them - taking a tumble. He'd lost control of the bike and bounced off the raised pavement only to hit the concrete a second later. It was a small blessing he didn't collide with anything else - he missed a parked Volvo by a hair - but it looked like a painful fall all the same, and they all broke into a sprint to reassure themselves that he was okay. 

When they caught up, Brian was thankfully sitting up already, looking a bit perplexed. There was an angry red scrape on his elbow - he'd instinctively put it out to catch himself and it had borne the brunt of his fall - and he was staring at it with an expression of fascination and worry. A woman carrying a shopping bag, who happened to be nearby when Brian had his first truly painful encounter with gravity, was first on the scene. 

"Are you all right, dear?" she asked kindly, setting her bag down and kneeling in front of him. "That was quite a tumble you took. Mind if I take a look?" Baffled, he lifted his arm for her to inspect while the other three stood by guiltily - because they hadn't paid better attention - and as always when a stranger approached Brian, somewhat warily. Roger picked up his bike and put it back upright. 

"Not too bad, all things considered," the woman said once she'd established Brian had sustained no worse damage than the graze. "But you should have that cleaned and dressed so it doesn't get infected." 

"Brian okay?" he asked in a quivery voice. The sight of his broken skin and blood welling up seemed to have shaken him a bit, perhaps more so than the fall itself. Freddie hoped the shock wouldn't dissuade him from attempting to ride the bike again. 

"Who is Brian?" 

Freddie opened his mouth to answer on Brian's behalf - old habits died hard- but before he could, Brian answered for himself. He pointed at his own chest, thought for a moment, and then said slowly and thoughtfully, "Me. Me Brian." 

She smiled. "Lovely to meet you, Brian. Yes, you're going to be okay. That wound needs some treatment, though. I have an idea - the grocery story is nearby. I'm sure Kenny will let us use the sink in the back and supply some plasters if we ask nicely. What do you think?" 

He nodded uncertainly, not fully understanding the intricacies of what she was proposing, but he could sense that her intentions were good. Freddie relaxed as well. He didn't know her, but she seemed a kind and trustworthy sort. Although he thought she might be a little older than his Mum, she was an attractive lady, slim and naturally elegant in a simple dress and heels. And she had a nice smile. In Freddie's experience, you could almost always tell the good people from the not so good ones by looking at their faces when they smiled. Especially the eyes. 

"I'm Freddie," he said, as Deaky and Roger helped Brian to his feet and brushed him down. They really were fretting over him like three clucking mother hens, Freddie thought with a wry smile. "Brian is our friend. You're very kind to help." 

"It's no problem at all, Freddie." She shouldered her bag and shook his hand. "The pleasure is all mine. I'm Ruth May. But please, call me Ruth."

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please let me know! I'm making this up as I go and your supportive comments sustain me :)


End file.
